Keep Holding On
by ChoCedric
Summary: AU. Albus Dumbledore told Sirius Black to lie low at Lupin's for a while, and then go and rally the old crowd. But Sirius, feeling more resolute than he ever had in his life, looked the Headmaster straight in the eye and said, "No. I'm staying with Harry. I'm not leaving him alone." And from that moment on, everything changed.
1. Chapter 1

Keep Holding On

By: ChoCedric

The two men stared at each other from across a desk, never letting their eye contact drop as the seconds passed. The elderly man's expression was calm and unflappable as he waited for his young companion to speak. The air between them practically crackled with tension, which they both knew would snap at any moment.

"You ... you have the nerve, the unmitigated gall, to ask me why, Dumbledore?" Snarled an enraged Sirius Black, who was using every last remnant of his patience not to shout; after all, they were in the office of Madam Pomfrey after she had given them permission to use it for this private conversation. "I'll tell you why, old man. It's because the boy I trusted you to keep safe is traumatized beyond belief. It's because he's been through more in two hours than many full-fledged adults have been through in their entire lifetimes. It's because you barely gave us any time together before you started barking instructions in my ear. It's because I've made too many mistakes. I've failed that boy his whole life, but I swear to Merlin, I'm not failing him again.

"Albus," he continued, all the anger seeming to deflate from his face as he let out a heartsick sigh. "I've always had the utmost respect for you. You never cared about where I came from, you let me fight for you and the cause despite the fact that my family are poisoned with greed, hatred, and pureblood mania. I know that the reason I didn't lose my soul a year ago was due to you instructing Harry and Hermione. But now .. you've got to understand that I need to stay with Harry. He needs me now more than ever. So I tell you, my answer is still no, and will remain no, Dumbledore. You can ask others to go and rally the old crowd. I'm staying right here where I'm needed most, with the godson I should have always protected."

As Sirius finished this last statement, a million thoughts ran through his mind, but the emotion that stuck out the most for him right now was guilt; endless, gnawing, suffocating guilt. For too long, he had failed to do the one thing Lily and James had ever asked of him: to take care of their little boy if anything happened to them. He remembered the moment when they had told him they were going to have a baby, and that they wanted him to be godfather. At that moment, his heart had expanded, overpowered by a feeling of such love and protectiveness that it floored him. He hadn't even met the child yet, he had still been months away from arriving, but Sirius had already known he loved him, and he'd go to the depths of Hell itself to assure that this precious human being who was both Lily and James would not come to harm.

But when the moment arrived ... when the unthinkable had happened and his entire world had collapsed around him ... he had broken his promise. The memory had replayed and replayed so many times in Azkaban that he couldn't even count how much he'd had to relive it. When he'd tried to convince Hagrid to let him take Harry and Hagrid had refused, telling him that he was taking him to Dumbledore, Sirius had caved in far too quickly. The hatred for Peter and need for revenge was pumping so hard through his blood that he'd neglected his first priority: Harry. And Peter had taken Sirius's weaknesses, taken them and used them like the rat bastard he was, and Sirius had ended up wasting away in prison for twelve years. He had often thought back on the day he'd found out he was to be godfather, of how he'd promised to go to the depths of Hell itself to protect Harry, and how he had reached that place once he'd set foot in Azkaban, but he wasn't rotting in a cell to protect Harry. He was rotting in a cell because he hadn't been thinking straight and done something stupid, like he'd done so many times in his life before.

And last year, he'd done the exact same thing. Being in the same room with Peter after twelve years had been too much for him. As soon as he'd set eyes on the thing that had ruined his life and murdered the dearest friends he'd ever known, the anger, bitterness, and pure loathing had pulsed through his veins so hard, he swore his blood was singing with it ... the most awful, discordant song imaginable. Thinking back, he knew he had been far from lucid that night when he'd spoken with Harry for the first time the boy could actually remember. Before then, he had no idea that any human body could contain so much negative emotion, even after being around his revolting family for so much of his life.

And because he'd been such a fool, he'd almost lost his soul. He blamed himself endlessly for the fact that Peter wasn't captured that night. He'd let himself get so caught up in the moment that he hadn't been prepared for the full moon that arose as he left the Shrieking Shack. He'd gone from blind rage at the sight of Peter, to relief at having gained Remus's understanding and forgiveness, to euphoria at having told Harry the truth, to ecstasy at the thought of freedom, exoneration, and Harry living with him and being able to give him all the love he deserved, to panic at the sight of the full moon, to terror and grief as he was captured by the Dementors, to blank nothingness as he fell unconscious, unable to cope with all the memories they brought out. And then, the next thing he'd known, he'd woken up in the Charms classroom, only to be confronted with the sight of Albus Dumbledore himself. The man had listened calmly, just like he was doing now, as a heartsore Sirius gave his explanation, twelve years overdue.

Yes, he'd failed before. He'd broken promises, neglected his duties, and in his estimation, was the worst godfather known to man. But as he thought of the young boy lying in a bed only a room away from him, he swore he'd do things right this time. He would make it up to his godson if it was the last thing he did. He knew Harry would never be the same after what he'd seen tonight; the haunted look in his beautiful emerald eyes would never escape Sirius's memory. He couldn't even imagine the weight of guilt and grief the boy now carried. What was worse was the fact that Harry now carried the same guilt that Sirius had been weighed down with for twelve years: the belief that someone's death was directly because of them. Sirius would never let go of the fact that Peter had been Lily and James's Secret Keeper because he'd convinced them that he would be the best choice. From now until the day he died, Sirius would carry that burden. And Harry was like an open book; it was obvious to Sirius that the boy blamed himself for the murder of Cedric Diggory. How would Sirius ever be able to convince him that the boy's death wasn't his fault in any shape or form?

And it was in that moment, right then and there, that Sirius vowed that he would see to it that Harry would not travel down the same road of guilt, self-loathing, and depression that he himself had travelled down. Because Harry Potter did absolutely nothing wrong during the events of tonight, and had, without a shadow of doubt, shown bravery many grown witches and wizards would not.

Dumbledore opened his mouth then, and Sirius was jolted back to the present: the two of them, sitting in this office, discussing the fact that Dumbledore wanted Sirius to be away from Harry, to start talking to the old crowd, to get the Order started again, now that Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard to ever live, had returned. Of course, Sirius knew how gravely important this assignment was - but he still wouldn't budge. There were others, others who could do the job, and do it well. He had a guilt-ridden, grieving, traumatized godson to help, protect, and love.

"Sirius, you have never failed Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "And he is not alone, you know that. He has his friends, who will make sure that he is taken care of. And he understands that there are assignments that take precedence over anything else. Voldemort must be stopped, and we both know you can be the rallying point we need. You mustn't worry, Harry is a strong young man. He will come through this."

A look of rage crossed Sirius's face again, but with an effort of Herculen proportions, he controlled it. But when he spoke, his voice was firm and unyielding. "Harry may be yours and the wizarding' public's sainted "Boy Who Lived," he said harshly, "but he is also just a child. And he is strong, I don't doubt that. But even the strong can only take so much. What will you do, Dumbledore, when he falls apart? I am not, AM NOT, going to allow that to happen. And don't go preaching to me about how important the Order is, I know that Voldemort needs to be destroyed. But I won't let my godson be destroyed along with him. For the final time, my answer is no, Dumbledore. I'm staying with Harry."

And with that, Sirius Black walked out of the office, not looking back at the old man behind him. It was time for him to fulfill his promise. He was going to go to Harry's bedside, and he was going to sit with him all night as he slept. And when morning came and his green eyes opened, he would have someone there beside him, now and forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: An enormous thank you to everyone for all the reviews, follows, and favorites. I am so incredibly grateful to everyone, and am so happy at how well this story has been received so far. I hope it continues to live up to your expectations.

I wanted to dedicate this entire thing to my amazing boyfriend, Ryan, who inspired me to begin writing again. I have been on hiatus for a long time, but his motivation has spurred me onward. He isn't even a Harry Potter fan, but I have told him enough about the series that he and I actually wrote our own fanfic, which was a coordinated effort between us. It is on my profile page, and it's called Harry potter and the Disco Wizards. It is a humor fic, and not my usual style at all, but I had an absolute blast writing it. Please feel free to check it out.

Anyway, on to chapter 2 of this story.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Harry came awake suddenly, his entire body jerking violently as a gasp of terror escaped his lips. The horrific images that had swirled around him all night, tormenting him, came to an abrupt halt as his emerald eyes flew open, and they darted frantically around the room as his breaths came hard and fast.

As he tried to come to grips with his surroundings, he felt someone gently place his round-rimmed glasses on his face, and the room came into focus. He was lying on a familiar bed in the Hogwarts hospital wing. He felt the hand that had touched his face rub his shoulder gently, and he looked around, coming face to face with a haggered, exhausted-looking Sirius Black.

The two stared at each other for an indefinable moment, and then, it was as if a huge wave broke over Harry, containing an overwhelming current of memories within its depths. The third task ... he and Cedric deciding they'd take the cup together ... Peter Pettigrew, carrying the deformed, grotesque Voldemort in his arms ... the shouted Killing Curse .. Cedric, eyes wide open but lifeless, a look of shock and fear forever imprinted upon his handsome face ... pain exploding as Harry's arm was cut open ... Voldemort, slithering out of a massive cauldron ... pain, humiliation, torture ... the bowing and scraping of the Death Eaters ... being on the edge of death ... the ghostly figures of Cedric, Bertha Jorkins, the old Muggle man, and ... Merlin ... his parents, their gentle pleading for him to hold on, to be strong ... sshrieks of grief and howls of sorrow as the students and staff learned what had happened, while Harry held the lifeless body in his arms, never wanting to let go.

"Harry. Harry!"

The boy's body jerked again, and he suddenly realized that Sirius was speaking to him urgently as he rubbed comforting circles on his back. "Harry, kiddo, it's okay now. It's all right."

Harry looked into his godfather's worn face, and his eyes prickled with tears. He furiously blinked them back; he simply would not cry. Through all his years, there had been one lesson which had been pounded into his mind, and it had stuck, no matter how the world had tried to break him. He remembered back to a time when it had been shouted at him in his aunt's shrill voice as he was dragged into his spider-infested cupboard: "No tears, you stupid boy. They mean nothing to me, and won't get you what you want. Your tantrums won't move me, nor will they anyone else." And to this day, he lived by those words. No tears would make any situation better ... especially not this one. As visions of Cedric's terrified face swam before him, he knew no amount of weeping could ever fix this.

He then felt arms tenderly coming around him, folding him into an embrace filled with something that felt extremely soothing to him. The closest he'd ever come to feeling something like this was when he'd been hugged by Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, the latter of whom had done so last night. Harry was ashamed to admit that he'd felt those traitorous tears pressing at his eyes again when Molly had enfolded him in her arms, like he'd often seen mothers doing to their own children. But to his credit, not one of those tears had fallen.

No, he hadn't broken then. But now, in the arms of his godfather ... the man who he had heard defy Albus Dumbledore himself ... it weakened every defense Harry had built around the stone structure that was his emotions, and he felt his walls come close to crumbling down, though he tried to rebuild them with every breath he took. But for the first time in years, he failed as the tears came streaming down his face. And after they started, it seemed as though they'd never stop. Harry's whole body shook with sobs he could not suppress, and as they clawed their way through his body, the warm arms never once let go of him. There was something so familiar about this embrace; it spoke of home, love, and security, and it awoke in him something inexplicable, something long buried. If he had recognized it for what it was, he would have known that his mind remembered knowing Sirius from when he was just months old. But the truth was, he consciously didn't remember; all he knew was that he could trust Sirius, without knowing how.

For how long Harry wept, he did not know, but when the flood of tears had eventually ebbed, Sirius finally let him go. Softly, he said, "Here, kiddo," and he handed Harry back his glasses, which he shakily placed back on his face. He hadn't even realized that Sirius had removed them during his breakdown. Then, Harry looked down to the ground, far too ashamed of the fact he had given in to his weakness to even look at Sirius. As cowardly as it sounded, he couldn't bring himself to actually see the disgusted expression on the man's face. If he'd had the clarity of mind to think at the moment, however, he would have wondered why Sirius had been so gentle, if he was ashamed of him.

But it seemed as though the man knew exactly what Harry was trying to do, because he gently put his hand on his chin, lifting it up so he could look into the bloodshot emerald eyes. "Harry," he said softly, "I know what you're thinking, and by Merlin, please don't. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Look at me," he urged as Harry attempted to look down to the ground again. "Harry, I am here for you. I know I haven't been in the past, but everything's going to change now. From here on out, I am here for you. I know things seem really, really bad right now, and words can't even describe what you've been through. But I promise you now ... I'm never leaving you alone again. We'll get through this together." He tenderly put his arms around his godson again, and Harry, somehow going against everything he'd been taught about affection, accepted it willingly. As he sank into the coccoon of security and protectiveness Sirius provided, a wave of exhaustion hit him, and he knew, without knowing how, that the sleep he would fall into now would be one without nightmares.

But before he succumbed to the sweet release of unconsciousness, free from the guilt and grief that overwhelmed him, he had the energy to mumble softly, "Why did you say no to Professor Dumbledore when he asked you to run those errands for him?"

And Sirius's answer came just as quietly as he cradled the child in his arms. "The answer to that is simple, kiddo. I told you before, I'm never leaving you alone again."

And with that, Harry let his eyes fall closed, and he let the familiar, rhythmic sound of Sirius's breathing lull him all the way to sleep.

Xxx

Sirius's heart ached as he continued to hold Harry close to him. The boy's breathing was now deep and even, and Sirius knew he had fallen asleep. He lifted up one hand and soothingly ran it through Harry's hair, hoping that the gesture would keep the terrifying nightmares away from his mind. He'd known instinctively that the Dreamless Sleep potion, which was supposed to have kept Harry asleep nightmare-free, had not had the desired effect. It was only three o'clock in the morning, and it was plain to see that Harry had suffered all night. He had realized, after looking into Harry's eyes the moment after he awoke, that instead of giving him a night without dreams, it had trapped him in his nightmares for a long time without him being able to wake up. It was obvious that even though the dose had been strong enough, Harry's mind had been too riddled with nightmares for the potion to truly do its job, and it had ended up having entirely the opposite effect on him.

And Sirius knew all about that. Since Dumbledore had found out the truth of his innocence, he had discreetly sent Sirius some Dreamless Sleep potion, and it had the same result for him as it had for Harry. He had only used the potion once, and after cycling through seeing the lifeless bodies of Lily and James over and over again, followed by hearing the horrific screaming and violent, wretched cackling of prisoners from his memories of Azkaban, he'd never taken the potion again. If he was going to have nightmares, he surmised, he'd rather wake himself up naturally than be trapped in them for hours without end. He felt sick to his stomach to know that his young, innocent godson had to suffer that fate as well. He hadn't even asked Harry what the potion had done to him; the answer was written all over his face, and he knew that all the boy needed at that moment was to be comforted. Talking about the nightmares would come later. After Harry had fallen asleep again, he knew his decision had been the right one. Harry had already been thinking himself weak for sobbing; he couldn't stand the thought of his reaction if he asked about his nightmares.

A new bout of fury flooded his veins as he remembered the shame in Harry's eyes after he'd sobbed his heart out. Growing up in the Black family, he was all too familiar with the mindset of how tears were a weakness. After all, Walburga had screeched it in his ear often enough, and Orion had drawled it in a bored, uncaring voice as he locked him in his room, telling him to think about how he was besmirching the Black family name. It was only when he had been exposed to the people who would become his best friends that he realized those words were a falsehood, and even then, it had taken him a long time to accept it. Looking at Harry, who was now peacefully sleeping, he knew those Dursleys had been just as foul as he'd always assumed they'd be. Guilt choked him in its stranglehold again; it was all his fault that Harry had had to grow up with them. He vowed that he'd get to the bottom of the damage those beasts had done to that child. Nausea gripped him as he hoped, with everything he had in him, that it was not worse than what it seemed on the surface ... and what was on the surface was bad enough.

As the minutes ticked by, Sirius reaffirmed the vow he'd made to Harry. He knew that he hadn't even begun to scratch the surface of the boy's guilt. He knew that simply saying, "None of this was your fault, Harry. Cedric's death and Voldemort's return weren't your fault," would not help in the slightest. Merlin knew, he would always wrestle with that particular demon himself when it came to Lily and James. And oh, God, Lily and James ... Harry had seen them as mere echoes coming out of Voldemort's wand. Even in death, they had been there for their son. He knew that for Harry, this would be one of the hardest things to process, and Sirius told himself firmly that he would never, ever let Harry see the pure, unadulterated jealousy that had flared up in him when he had found out that for a very short time, Harry had seen their faces, had gotten to talk to them. Sirius would have given anything, anything, for that chance ... the chance to look at them once more, to hear their voices again, to apologize to them for being such a fool, to promise them that he'd take care of their son ...

Viciously, Sirius forced those thoughts out of his head. His feelings on the matter were irrelevant; he needed to help Harry process all of this rather than focus on his own selfish wants and desires. Lily and James were counting on him, and he knew that feeling jealous of Harry, even for just a split second, was despicable. The boy had been through enough to last a thousand lifetimes, and Sirius would see him through the healing process every step of the way.

And as Sirius continued to stroke Harry's hair, he felt sleep closing in on him as well, and knowing that the boy was safe for now, he let it take him into its hold.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the amazing reviews. I am so glad you are enjoying the story so much, that is amazing to know.

As far as the Dreamless Sleep potion and the side effects go, I cannot take credit for that idea. I have seen it in many other fics, and it really made sense to me. However, I do have some original ideas concerning Harry's nightmares, and they will show up later.

For now, please enjoy this chapter. This will introduce another element to the plot which will become very integral. I promise we will get back to Harry and Sirius in the next chapter.

Xxxxxxxxxx

In a part of Hogwarts that was near the kitchens lay a room where many devastated, sleepless students were sitting. This room was the Hufflepuff common room, and many of these students had stayed awake all night, stricken with grief and heartache. It was the early hours of the morning now, and they knew rest would be elusive for the rest of the night.

The feeling of excitement and anticipation that had filled this room just twelve hours ago had been completely obliterated, and in its place was an atmosphere of complete anguish, sorrow, and rage. Their shining star, their leader, someone they had all looked up to, who they considered to be the best of them all, was gone, never to return to them.

Susan Bones would never forget the ice-cold shock that had gripped her heart when she had witnessed both Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory disappear from the spot where the Triwizard Cup sat. The crowd had not been able to see what had gone on in the maze, not until the last few minutes when they had reached the cup. Dumbledore had explained that there was a charm on that part of the maze so they could see who won. They had heard Harry and Cedric speaking to each other, arguing over who would take the cup. Susan had known how good-hearted Cedric was, that he had offered to let Harry take it by himself, but Harry had refused. He had compromised with Cedric that they would take it together, and still earn a Hogwarts victory. In that moment, Susan's respect for both boys had risen.

But then, it had all gone wrong. As the boys each grabbed a handle, they and the cup had disappeared, leaving a stunned silence in their wake, followed by a confused, deafening jumble of sound as everyone tried to make sense of what had just happened.

The Hufflepuffs, sitting huddled together, all shared the same fear as the minutes passed. Albus Dumbledore had tried to calm the crowd down, but it was to no avail. As time stretched on and the two Hogwarts champions still didn't return, the crowd noise got louder and louder until it became a roar. Hannah Abbott,sitting next to Susan, had clutched her hand, terror in her eyes, but they couldn't speak their fears out loud. But Susan knew they were both thinking the same thing: something terrible had befallen both boys.

Susan had thought back over the mysterious and unexplained events of the year. She thought about the Death Eaters marching at the Quidditch World Cup, the fact that a Ministry worker, Bertha Jorkins, had gone missing, and Barty Crouch, Senior's strange absences. She thought about Harry's name coming out of the Goblet of Fire, and how most of the school had turned against him. She had thought with disgust of the members of her own house who had participated in the jibes and taunts to him in the corridors. Hufflepuffs were supposed to be hard-working and loyal, but where was the loyalty in turning against someone who had done nothing to them? There had even been a time when she had been furious with Cedric himself, because she thought he was among them. She had pulled him aside soon after the champion selection, and had yelled at him. She could vividly remember Cedric going pale, and putting his face in his hands as he confessed that his ill will towards Harry was because of nothing he had done; it was because he was upset with his father for always comparing the two. All Cedric had ever wanted was to make Mr. Diggory proud, and Harry's entry into the tournament was yet another obstacle. But once Harry had told him about the dragons, which he had explained to Susan, the resentment towrds Harry vanished, and he had tried his hardest to support the younger boy and to stop those in the house from disparaging him, especially when the "Potter Stinks" badges were prevalent. Throughout the rest of the year, he hated hearing anything said against Harry, and Susan was ecstatic when it looked like both boys would be the true Triwizard champions last night..

So, as she had sat in the Quidditch stands, the agonizing minutes had continued to tick by, and then, with an almighty thump, Harry and Cedric had materialized at the edge of the maze. For the rest of her life, she would never forget the sight that greeted her then: Harry, shaking, sobbing, white as a sheet, clutching the Triwizard Cup in one hand, and in the other, Cedric. Cedric, pale and still and lifeless, eyes staring up to the sky, a look of profound shock and fear upon his handsome face. Cedric, who just wouldn't wake up. Cedric, who was dead, gone forever.

The commotion that followed was burned into Susan's memory. She remembered the screams, the sobs, the howls of grief from Mr. Diggory, who Susan now knew loved his son beyond anything in the world. Mrs. Diggory looked like she was about to throw up as she stroked Cedric's face lovingly. Teachers were panic-stricken, trying to herd the students back into the school. Cedric's girlfriend, Cho Chang, bent over him, continuously screaming for him to wake up, wake up, wake up, clutching him to her like a lifeline.

It had been pure chaos, and through it all, Susan would never forget the words Harry Potter spoke. "He's back! He's back! Voldemort's back! Cedric ... I couldn't leave him, not there!"

And now, hours later, a haunted Hufflepuff House sat in the common room. The sound of sobs had punctuated the atmosphere all night long, interspersed with raw, frozen silences. The couches and chairs were taken up by students of all years as they tried desperately to understand what had taken place. Susan and Hannah had sat, and were still sitting, with a first year named Elly Beckitt between them. Elly, who was a Muggle-born, was traumatized by what she had seen. She had been very homesick through her first term, and one of the people who had been so important to her integration into the wizarding world had been Cedric. Hours ago, Elly had confessed that she didn't want to be part of the wizarding world anymore.

Suddenly, Susan was pulled out of her thoughts by Zacharias Smith, who abruptly stood up from the couch he was occupying. "We need answers," he said, and Susan could see the fierce light of rage gleaming in his eyes. "Something needs to be done."

"I know, mate," Ernie McMillan said from next to him. "I want to know, too. What are we going to do?"

At this question, the anger in Zack seemed to intensify. "I was right all along," he fumed. "I knew that bastard Potter was bad news. He took Cedric from right under our noses, murdered him, and brought him back here claiming You-Know-Who has returned, and it's a complete crock!" His hands clenched into fists, and he stared into the room, daring anyone to argue with him.

"Now, wait just a minute," Justin Finch-Fletchley said fiercely. "I knew you'd jump to this conclusion, and you just can't."

"Yes, he can," snarled Melissa Parrick, who was one of Cedric's best friends. She stood up too, doing nothing to hide the tears streaming down her face. "Are you blind, Justin? It's completely obvious! I've been telling Cedric this whole year not to trust him, and I was right! Because of him, MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD!" She slumped back down into her seat, burying her face in her hands.

Melissa's boyfriend, Jacob, wound his arm around her in comfort, but his tone begged her to see reason. "Lissa," he said softly, "listen to me. We've accused Potter of terrible things before, and we couldn't have been more wrong. When he came back last night, did you truly see a murderer when you looked at him? He certainly wasn't acting like one."

"That's the point, Jake," spat Zach, glaring venomously at the older boy. "He was faking it, can't you see that? And the stuff he was spouting about You-Inow-Who ... does he really expect us to believe that crap? He was lying, pure and simple. Cedric trusted him, and look where it got him."

Susan felt sick to her stomach as she gazed around at the students in the room. Many, unfortunately, were nodding in agreement to Zach's outburst. But she did have hope when she looked at some others, who looked severely doubtful.

From beside her, Elly made a frightened noise, terrified by all the talk of murder and death around her. Susan tightened her arms around her, and whispered comforting words in her ear. On the other side of Elly, Hannah Abbott stood. Susan wondered what she was going to say, especially because two years ago, she had been one of the people who mistrusted Harry during the Chamber of Secrets debacle. She and Susan had gone for months without speaking to each other, because Susan was disgusted by her attitude. When the year had ended with Harry as the hero, however, Hannah had reconsidered her conclusions, and had tried to redeem herself. The two girls finally renewed their friendship, but it had taken a long time.

"Listen," Hannah said quietly, but her voice seemed to carry through the whole room. "I know we're all horrified at what happened to one of our own, and we're all going to miss him so much. But blaming Harry isn't the answer. I'm ashamed to say that I was one of those who accused him two years ago." After she said this, she looked down to the floor, and Susan knew her assumptions back then still haunted her. "But I'm not going to accuse him again. I was wrong about him before, and the way I acted still upsets me. Please, don't do this. And it's not ..." She shuddered and let out a sob. "It's not what Cedric would want." Ernie nodded in understanding and agreement. He, too, had been awful to Harry two years ago.

"Fine," Zach snarled, stamping his foot in fury. "If you're not going to avenge Cedric, then I will. In the morning we're going to the hospital wing, and we're getting answers. I don't doubt Potter is staying there. Who's with me?"

The sickness continued to roil through Susan's stomach as she saw many of her housemates raise their hands, signaling that they agreed. "Please don't do this," she said softly, her arm still around a weeping Elly. "It's not going to make anything better. Innocent until proven guilty."

"Fine, but next time someone dies in this school, it'll be partly on your head," sneered Malcolm, who was one of Cedric's roommates.

Susan, whose eyes had been dry for some time now, felt tears enter them again, and they streaked her face even as a firm resolve grew within her. She was not going to let this happen. She could see it all clearly now, especially with how the Ministry ran. She knew how this would go, and her stomach lurched.

Her aunt, Amelia Bones, worked as the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Susan knew a lot about the Ministry from her. Many were already scared of Harry and what he could become, and now, they would surround him, and hunt him like a pack of wolves. They would rather believe him a murderer than the fact that Lord Voldemort had returned. And with nothing but vengeance on some of these students' minds, they would be all too happy to help them. Some had parents who worked in the Ministry, as well.

And Susan knew what she was going to do as she mouthed a few words to Hannah. Hannah nodded, and Susan got up to go to the dorm room, leaving Elly in Hannah's care. She was going to write to her aunt right now, and tell her what had happened. Harry would need people in his corner in the days ahead, and Susan knew with a bone-deep certainty that she was going to help him.

The grief for Cedric Diggory was almost unmanageable, and his shocked, frozen, lifeless face flitted before her eyes, but she was not going to let an innocent boy take the blame for it. She thought of Harry, alone, cold, starving, shaking, in an Azkaban cell, and sobs shook her body as her dorm room came into sight. She was not, absolutely was not, going to allow that to happen.

As she began to write to her aunt, her hands shook, but the words she wrote were crystal clear in her mind. Because she knew one thing, and one thing for certain: Harry Potter did not murder Cedric Diggory.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hello everyone, my goodness, thank you so much for all the awesome reviews. I am so glad you are enjoying the story.

As for Susan Bones, yes, we will see a lot more of her. She has a very sharp mind in this story, which is why I am having her connect so many dots. As for Zacharias, it is true that he might not have been close to Cedric in canon, but this is an AU take, after all. I am changing things around in this story.

I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. We will see Sirius and Harry here, plus another key player in the plot.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Minerva McGonagall felt an overwhelming fatigue as she slowly made her way to the hospital wing. It was about eight in the morning now, and she hadn't slept a wink the entire night. It had been the worst night she'd experienced in a very long time.

Guilt and shame swarmed her when she thought of the events of the past four years. In her estimation, she had been a horrible Head of House. She had vowed, when she had taken the position decades earlier, that she would take care of her students like they were her sons and daughters, that she would do all she could to protect them. And, looking back, she knew she had failed spectacularly.

When Harry had come to Hogwarts at eleven, she could tell from just one look at him that the past ten years had been rough on him. He was skinny, looked starved for affection, and his emerald eyes were duller than she'd like them to be. But after the dread of that first sighting, hope had burgeoned in her heart. With every day that passed, his eyes shone a little brighter, and his face filled with wonder as he discovered what Hogwarts and the wizarding world had to offer.

Then, at the end of the year, she had made an awful mistake. Harry had come to her, convinced that the Sorcerer's Stone was in grave danger of being stolen. Shocked and dismayed that he had found out about it as she was, she had still been under the impression that he was worried over nothing. The protections on the stone were very secure; she was positive that they could not be breached.

But, she had learned as that night drew to a close, she was severely mistaken. Harry, someone she was supposed to protect, had gone after the stone, along with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The events resulted in Harry lying in the hospital wing for three days, extremely close to death due to severe magical exhaustion. In fact, he had almost not made it through that first night; it was a miracle he had survived, and it was only due to the expertise of Madam Pomfrey that he had done so.

The guilt had eaten Minerva up from the inside out. She had always prided herself on being the model Gryffindor, to show her lions that they could count on her, and she had failed. She had disbelieved Harry, sending him away and discounting his story because it came from the mouth of a child. She'd thought Harry was being too dramatic, that he didn't know what he was talking about, and her dismissal of him almost resulted in his death.

After the year was over, Minerva vowed to change. If she was going to look at herself in the mirror every morning without feeling disgust swarm her, she was going to do better. She thought of her prized students, Lily and James Potter, and cringed when she pondered on what they'd say to her if they saw her now.

But, she reflected as she came nearer the hospital wing, she knew she'd failed now more than ever. Over the next three years at Hogwarts, the danger Harry was in had shown itself over and over again, and Minerva had refused to see what was in front of her eyes every single time. Harry had gone into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny, and almost didn't live through that either. Last year, the revelations regarding the true culprit of the Potters' deaths had come out. More self-disgust swelled in Minerva's stomach as she thought of the fact that she had believed, for twelve years, in Peter Pettigrew's hero status and Sirius Black's betrayal. After all, she had taught those two students for seven years, and had fought with them in the Order of the Phoenix. To put it plainly, minerva McGonagall had been a blind, gullible fool.

And this year ... when Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, she'd been frightened for him beyond anything she'd ever felt before. She had known, from the instant it had happened, that Harry had not entered himself. She was done with being a blind idiot, believing the masses who doubted him, and she had looked beyond the surface. She was appalled at the members of the student body who taunted and jeered at him in the corridors, and muttered about him beneath their breaths. Her disappointment with Ronald Weasley was palpable as she saw how he reacted to Harry's becoming champion, but it cooled when she saw him come to the realization that he was wrong in his actions, and the two became friends again. Her pride in Harry multiplied as she witnessed him withstand the constant pressure and stress he had been under.

But, as she swung the hospital wing doors open, her heart couldn't be heavier. Last night, when Harry had returned with Cedric Diggory's body, Minerva McGonagall knew what it felt like to have her heart truly break. Through everything Harry had endured, she had never seen his spirit broken before, but now was a different story. She remembered the look in Harry's eyes, the tears streaming down his face as he wept and clung to the older champion's body, refusing to release him from his grip, as if he could bring life back into him by simply holding on. As she'd watched Harry through the years, she'd never seen him weep, and got the distinct feeling he was ashamed of doing so. And she honestly thought that Harry hadn't even realized he was doing it, and now, in the light of morning, she wondered if he'd even had an inkling it had happened. She thought of her own experiences with battle and seeing Order members fall, and some of the moments in the aftermath had been such a blur, she needed other people's testimonies to recall what had transpired.

As she entered the room, she saw the curtains around Harry's bed were open, and Sirius Black was sitting in a chair by Harry's bed. Harry was seated on the bed, eating breakfast from a tray.

"Good morning, Mr. Black. Good morning, Mr. Potter," she said crisply, reverting to her professional demeanor. In times like this, she relied on that more than ever. She had to stay strong and keep her chin up, despite the turmoil and overwhelming devastation she felt inside. She had to try and keep all emotion out of her face and voice if she was going to be any help in this situation.

"Good morning," Harry said softly, exhaustion and pain showing in his voice despite his best efforts to sound otherwise.

"Minerva," said Sirius, turning to look at her for just an instant before his eyes focused on Harry again. "It is good to see you."

"Likewise," said McGonagall, looking him up and down. Guilt held her in its unrelenting grip again as she looked at the haggered man in front of her. Merlin, she had made so many mistakes. If she had truly fought for this man's honor, she would not feel partly responsible for his twelve years in Azkaban. Deep down, of course she knew she might not have been able to stop it altogether, because she remembered how desperate the wizarding world was to try to forget the war after its end. The public had been hungry for vengeance against the perpetrators, and some of the Death Eater trials that had followed had been complete farces. If you could call them trials, Minerva thought furiously, and Sirius hadn't even gotten one at all. He'd just been thrown unceremoniously in Azkaban without a second thought, never to see the light of day again.

But the truth of the matter remained that Minerva's conscience would be a lot clearer if she had at least fought for him, been in his corner when he needed her most. When the time had called for her to stand up, she had folded and gone along with the crowd. And now, Sirius had ghosts and shadows in his eyes, and he was struggling to face the demons that twelve years of hell had piled onto him.

As she looked at the way he never took his eyes off Harry, pride welled in her heart. She knew he had made his mistakes, too, but it couldn't be clearer that Harry was his top priority now. She had been in the room when Albus had given his instructions, and therefore knew that Sirius had told him firmly that no, he would not go and rally the Order, that he was not going to leave Harry's side. And needless to say, she couldn't be prouder. Knowing Albus, she was sure he would have tried to convince him in a setting when the two were alone, and if that was true, Sirius hadn't budged. He was doing the right thing by his godson.

And this was another reason that Minerva McGonagall was not at all as strong as she'd like to think she was. Over the years, she had known Albus to make some very questionable decisions, and he had been very good at persuading her to go along with him. She especially remembered the time she had voiced her disapproval of baby Harry being left on the Dursleys' doorstep in the middle of the night with only a letter to explain his appearance. She had watched that revolting family all day, and knew it was no place for Harry to grow up. But Albus, with his twinkling eyes and convincing words, had caused her to stop fighting him, and she knew now that she would forever regret that decision. She didn't think she would ever forgive herself for that.

And last night, Sirius Black had done something she had always been afraid to do. He had said a firm, resounding no to Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in the world. Sirius Black was a convict on the run, who could be discovered by the wrong person at any time, and given the Dementor's Kiss, but he didn't care. He would walk through any amount of danger for Harry, and Minerva felt an incredibly strong resolve sweep over her in that moment. From now on, she would learn to be stronger. From now on, she would keep Harry's best interests at heart.

And Minerva knew what she had to do as she conjured another chair by Harry's bed, and sat herself down in it. Sirius took his eyes off Harry again to look curiously at her, and Minerva felt her resolve grow stronger. Suddenly, it became impossible to retain her professional demeanor, even though it had only been moments ago that she had sworn to keep that in place. She truly looked at the pale, grief-stricken boy who was eating mechanically, like he wasn't even tasting the food. She opened her mouth and simply said, "I'm sorry."

Harry turned his head, his green eyes widening as he stared at her. "Professor?" he murmured, true surprise in his tone.

Minerva felt sick as she looked at his expression. This boy really had no idea what she was apologizing for, did he? He was used to not having adults be there for him, to listen to him and trust what he was saying. He didn't expect the people around him to protect him, to keep him out of danger. Albus, what have you done? she thought, horrified, and then, even louder in her mind, she added, Minerva, what have YOU done?

And then, she voiced her feelings out loud. "I am sorry for everything, Harry," she said softly, using his first name, a rare occurrence for her, and the shock only intensified in Harry's eyes. She took a deep breath and continued, "I'm sorry I have shown myself as someone who's failed to protect you. You have had an extremely difficult time of it these four years at Hogwarts, and we, the faculty, have failed to do what is right by you, me worst of all. I am your Head of House, and I have not done what is right. I vow to make it up to you." She moved her eyes to Sirius's face and gave him a meaningful look, including him in her promise. Sirius looked at her gratefully and gave a single nod, the corner of his mouth turning up very slightly.

"Thank you, Minerva," he said, sincerity shining in his eyes. A wistful expression stole over his face suddenly as he stared at her, and with a jolt of her heart, a sudden memory filtered through her mind. When the Marauders had landed themselves in detention during their school days, which was more often than not, Sirius used to wink at her cheekily and refer to her as Minnie, which always, without fail, earned him another detention. But secretly, when Minerva had returned to her room at night, she was very amused by it. In the light of day, she would never allow any student to show her such disrespect, but safe in her own room, she let herself laugh about it. She looked into his eyes and saw the nostalgia there, and wondered if he was recalling the same thing.

Harry's quiet voice pulled her out of her reverie. He looked at Minerva with an expression on his face that she didn't think she deserved to have directed at her. He looked stunned that she had said such a thing to him. "You haven't done anything wrong, Professor," he said. "It's okay."

Minerva saw the certainty of that belief in his eyes and knew she could not convince him that this needed to be said. It only made her more sure that she had to prove to him that she would do better.

There was another long moment of silence. Then, Harry said, "Where are the Diggorys?" From the way these words were spoken, it seemed as though it was costing him a great effort to voice them.

"No, Harry," said Sirius at once. "You are not responsible for this. Dumbledore has already told them what happened. You don't need to put yourself through this."

Minerva felt a surge of grief flood through her system. Her mind had been so consumed with thoughts of her regrets, and she had tried her hardest to confront them, but this was something that she couldn't bear to think about. Cedric Diggory had been a bright, talented student, and his future was full of promise. He was kind, loyal, helpful, and was a true leader of Hufflepuff House. He had been extremely popular, and someone many tried to emulate. His murder shook her to her core, and she would never be able to forget the look of terror forever plastered on his face. He was currently in a room not far away from this one, which was cut off from the rest of the hospital wing. She had quietly talked with the heartsick parents the night before, and said goodbye to her strong, wonderful student.

And she knew, without a shadow of doubt, that it had been because of Voldemort that he was murdered. Harry's words were like a dart shot straight through her heart; there was going to be a second war, and Cedric had been the first casualty. And she was going to fight with Harry, to stand tall in the face of adversity and do battle with the demon that was trying, once again, to destroy the world.

"Sirius," said Harry, and even though his voice shook, the look in his eyes was that of someone who knew what had to be done. "I need to talk to them. Please. Where are they?"

Minerva's mind dredged up the past again as she thought of the First War, and the similar strength of many Order members when they saw their comrades fall in battle. Many had expressed the same sentiment; after their deaths, they wished to comfort the victims' loved ones, because they felt responsible. Upon speaking to Cedric's parents, Minerva had learned that even through their sorrow, they did not blame Harry. They were incredibly grateful, and shed many tears, over the fact that Harry had risked his life to bring their son's body back to them, back home to where he belonged instead of leaving him in that awful place. Looking at the pleading, earnest expression on Harry's face, she knew she had to let him do this. The Diggorys could be instrumental in helping Harry see that Cedric's death wasn't his fault.

Unfortunately, she had also got wind of some of the rumblings and rumors circulating through the school, that Harry had murdered Cedric. And Minerva knew that was the biggest mockery of the truth. From her experience with tragedy, she was very much aware that people tried to find an easy target to blame. It was much easier to believe Harry Potter a murderer than the fact that the monster most thought dead had actually returned to life. Minerva felt sadness squeeze her heart as she thought of the trials and hardships ahead of the young, innocent boy in front of her. And she knew that Amos and Eileen Diggory knew the truth, and they would be in Harry's corner, whatever may come.

So, she faced Harry, and answered his question quietly. "They are with Cedric, in a room off the hospital wing," she said. "I can ask them if they want to talk to you."

Sirius glowered at her furiously. "Minerva, what are you doing? You can't think this is right! Hasn't he been through enough?" he snarled viciously.

Harry shook his head. "Sirius, I need to do this," he said, sincerity shining in his emerald eyes. "I have to."

Minerva got up out of her chair, knowing that the moment had arrived to talk to the Diggorys. The entire time, she heard Sirius begging Harry not to go through with this, that it would only make things worse, but Harry was having none of it. As she left the room, Minerva hoped beyond anything that this would be the first step towards Harry's recovery, and the beginning of her redemption.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. I am so glad you enjoyed Minerva McGonagall's perspective.

I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Harry sat dejectedly on his hospital bed, waiting for the Diggorys to arrive. He dreaded this meeting with all his being, but he knew he had to see them. He had to apologize, to let them know that he would have done anything, given up anything, to bring back Cedric safe and alive.

It had been a rough morning for Harry. When he'd awoken, there had been a few blissful seconds where he had remembered nothing from the night before. But as soon as he smelled the sterile scent and recognized the white ceiling of the hospital wing, the memories hit him like a sledgehammer. Lord Voldemort had returned, and he had ordered Peter Pettigrew to murder Cedric Diggory. Harry's blood had been used, against his will, to resurrect the most evil wizard in history. He had talked to his parents for the first time in his memory, and barely had time to learn their faces and voices. Cedric had told him to hold on, to escape, to take his body back to his parents and loved ones.

Most of the evening had been a blur for him, especially the moments after he returned to Hogwarts with Cedric's body. He remembered the screams and wails, remembered his own desperation as Dumbledore had tried to get him to release Cedric's body. He had trouble recalling what he'd said, what he'd done during those minutes of chaos.

But, he surmised, I must have said that Voldemort is back. He recalled the moments when Cornelius Fudge had not believed the truth, and Harry's dread mounted tenfold as he thought about that in the light of morning. If the Ministry didn't believe Voldemort was back, then who did they think had killed Cedric?

Harry was reminded of the events two years ago when the school had been gripped with the terrifying implications of the Chamber of Secrets. Because he had unknowingly shown the whole school that he could speak Parseltongue, suspicion ran rampant in the corridors and classrooms. Harry didn't want to even imagine what people were suspecting about him now; it was too much to bear.

But one thing that had floored Harry beyond anything was the fact that Sirius had stayed by his side the entire night, and had still been with him when he awoke this morning. The man had told him that before he awoke, the others who had stayed by his side the night before which included Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley had gone to the Great Hall to get breakfast. "They wanted to stay until you woke up, but I persuaded them to leave and come back later," Sirius had said. "They were reluctant, but I told them you wouldn't want to be overcrowded by people right now."

Harry had been incredibly grateful, because that was indeed how he felt. He loved his friends, Merlin knew he did, but he felt like miles separated them now. How could they ever understand what it had been like to witness what he had? He remembered the period where he and Ron had not spoken for weeks, and even though he had long forgiven his friend for that rift, remnants of bitterness still clung to him. Try being me now, Ron, and see how you like it, he thought, but then felt terrible for thinking such a thing. He couldn't expect Ron to truly understand, could he?

As he sat on the bed now with Sirius in a chair next to him, he was honestly amazed at the lengths the man was willing to go for him. Shame still flooded him when he remembered his breakdown in the middle of the night. He had tried to apologize this morning, but Sirius wouldn't let him. Harry had also been horrified when he realized that any of the others could have been awake last night to hear the entire thing, but Sirius had reassured him that he had put a Silencing Charm over his bed. The moment of vulnerability had been between just the two of them. To this, Harry had no words; he felt to overwhelmed to respond, and once again, Sirius seemed to understand.

The seconds stretched by as godfather and godson waited for McGonagall to arrive with the Diggorys. Harry knew how against this idea Sirius was, and in the last few minutes, he had kept trying to tell Harry not to go through with it. But the boy refused to budge; he knew this was the right thing to do.

"You're really going to do this, aren't you? I can't stop you," Sirius murmured, intense worry present in his stormy gray eyes.

"I have to, Sirius," Harry replied for what felt like the thousandth time. "I have to tell them I'm sorry."

"And I've told you, you have nothing to apologize for," Sirius reiterated, but as Harry looked at him, he saw his shoulders slump in defeat. "But I know I can't convince you. In that case, I'll just be with you the entire time."

"Sirius, you can't," Harry said as he felt fear flood his system. "What will the Diggorys think when they see you? Everyone knows what you look like," he said, with a truly apologetic look. He loathed reminding Sirius that he was an escaped convict on the run, but was terrified he would get caught. He knew that if that happened, the Ministry would show him no mercy, and Harry would never see him again.

A fleeting look of despair washed over Sirius's face, but then, he quickly pulled himself together. "I'll transform, then," he said firmly. "No one will know."

Harry sighed, exasperated. "You know that won't work either," he said. "Dogs are not on the list of animals you're allowed to own. It's not safe for you. You have to hide somewhere. Sirius, I don't want you getting locked up again. I don't want anything to happen to you." The image of Cedric's lifeless face flitted through his mind again, and horror strangled him anew when he thought of Sirius losing his soul to the Dementors all because of him. Harry had caused enough grief to last a lifetime, and he refused to see anyone else get hurt or killed on his behalf.

Instantly, Sirius's expression softened when he caught the look on Harry's face. Quickly, he got out of his chair and came very close to Harry, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, pup," he said softly. "I will stay safe for you. You're right, I'm not thinking straight. But I am still going to be here for you. I will cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself." He raised his wand and did so, and he seemed to vanish out of sight. If Harry looked extremely carefully, he could just make him out, but he had to focus very hard. For anyone else, they would have to be incredibly alert, or know what they were looking for.

Harry recalled Hermione telling him about this charm; she, of course, had read about it. This was the first time Harry had seen it in action, and he was impressed despite himself. But the excruciating worry wriggled inside him all the same. "Sirius, please," he begged. "It'll be all right. Please don't put yourself in danger."

"Trust me, Harry," Sirius's voice was very near his ear. "This charm comes in very handy. I've been lucky to have had my wand replaced this past year."

Harry pondered on this. Sirius must have had his old wand snapped when he was sent to Azkaban. How did he get it replaced? The answer immediately presented itself; Dumbledore must have helped him gain a new one. It must have aided him in eluding capture by the Ministry.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment, the doors to the hospital wing opened, and McGonagall strode back in, followed by two people who seemed to have aged a decade overnight. It was apparent that neither of them had slept at all, and marks of unbearable grief and loss radiated from their every pore. Cedric's parents had arrived.

And it was then that Harry's resolve to be brave and strong for them fled him. As they came over to his bed, he couldn't bring himself to keep looking at them. His gaze fell to the ground, studying the bedsheets like they were his anchor to the earth. How could he possibly endure a conversation with them?

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his face. It was a soft, tender touch, and it reminded him of Molly Weasley as it lifted his chin. Harry resisted, but eventually, he gave in. He had to face this, didn't he? Wasn't this the reason he had asked for them to see him?

Sirius had informed him that the Diggorys didn't blame him for what had happened to their son, but Harry had been sure that he was being untruthful to protect him. But as he looked into the stricken eyes of Mrs. Diggory as she forced him to look at her, he didn't see any hate or anger on her face. Instead, her expression was soft as she gazed upon him. "Harry," she whispered, "Professor Dumbledore has told Amos and I what happened. Honey, we are so sorry, and we want you to know that we don't blame you."

"Eileen is right," said Mr. Diggory, his voice raw. With a jolt, Harry remembered his horrific screams of "THAT'S MY SON! MY BOY! MY BOY! MY BOY!" That had torn their way out of his throat the night before. "We blame the scum who did this to him," the man continued. "But that person is not you."

"Don't waste away in guilt, Harry," Mrs. Diggory murmured to the shocked boy. "My son wouldn't want that. Never."

"He thought a lot of you," said Mr. Diggory as he placed a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder. "He was very adamant that he wanted to support you."

At this pronouncement, another bout of immense guilt seized Harry. Thinking back, there was no doubt that Cedric had been a far better champion. Over the months that passed, Harry had resented and been jealous of the older boy, and the regret Harry felt now would stay with him for the rest of his life. In the larger scheme of things, those feelings had been so petty, so insignificant. He had been so envious because Cedric had friends who seemed to like him for him, had parents who truly doted on him, and, to add insult to injury, seemed to radiate pure happiness when with Cho Chang, the first girl Harry had ever had a crush on. He remembered his old wish, that Cho would agree to ditch Cedric and go to the ball with him, and self-disgust rose up like bile. In the months after the ball, both Cho and Cedric had seemed to glow when they were together, and Harry had yearned for a happiness such as that. The truth was, he had no idea what being in love felt like; it wasn't something that had entered his mind before, young as he was. But all he knew was that he wanted to be that strong, that confident, to be liked because he was true to himself rather than being idolized for fame he had never wanted.

But now ... how was he supposed to look Cho or Cedric's friends in the face ever again? It was almost impossible to do it with his parents, and he knew he wouldn't have to face them every single day. But with the others, it would be constant. He might run into them in the corridors all the time, and see the agony of loss and sorrow on their faces. How could he ever come to terms with any of it?

"I'm sorry," Harry burst out, his emotions almost at the breaking point. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him. I ..."

"Harry, you don't owe us an apology," Mrs. Diggory said softly, cupping the boy's face in her hands. "We are so thankful you did what you did for him at the end. You brought him home, and we couldn't be more grateful."

"Agreed," said Mr. Diggory, and his hand remained on Harry's shoulder. "And we want to tell you that we will be here to support you in whatever's ahead. We know the Ministry are being fools right now," he said, and his face transformed for an instant into an expression of deep fury. "And we believe you."

"We remember the First War," said Mrs. Diggory, "and there have been signs all year that something was amiss. We have no doubt that You-Know-Who has returned, and we are going to do whatever needs to be done. We're going to fight, in memory of our Cedric, and for you." She held out her arms to embrace Harry. Harry, his mind so submerged in emotion he could hardly think, let himself sink into the embrace. After all the trauma she and her husband had been through, they were going to help Harry. They didn't blame him, they didn't hold him responsible. Harry felt tears press at his eyes again, and despite his best efforts, a few fell onto Mrs. Diggory's shoulder as she held him close.

By the time she pulled back, though, Harry had managed to pull himself together again. "Is Cedric still here?" He whispered, and the words seemed to come from a place he didn't know existed.

"Yes, darling," said Mrs. Diggory. "He is still in the room across the hall that's separated from the rest of the wing. In a few minutes, we are taking him to the funeral parlor near our home, and arrangements will need to be made." Her face spasmed with the pure sorrow she felt at having to make that statement.

At the word "funeral", Harry felt his heart clench as well. In a voice barely audible, he said, "Can I ... can I say goodbye?"

The Diggorys and McGonagall exchanged a glance. The older woman had been silent this entire time, simply watching the interaction between Harry and the Diggorys. All three seemed to communicate without words in that moment, and Harry wondered what they were thinking.

Finally, Mrs. Diggory's warm hand landed on Harry's shoulder again, and she said quietly, "Of course you can."

Harry's heart pounded as the little group walked out of the room, and he followed them to somewhere he had never seen before. It was a small room, whose very energy itself seemed to radiate grief. For a moment, Harry had second thoughts - how could he bring himself to say goodbye to someone whose fearful, frozen, lifeless face would never get out of his memories? But the thoughts left him as soon as they came; he needed to do this for Cedric, to promise him that despite what came, he would continue to fight. Cedric should have lived a long, happy life; he deserved so much more. Cedric had taught Harry to never take life for granted ever again.

When Harry entered the room, he immediately noticed the bed contained inside. Bracing himself for the inevitable, Harry bolstered his courage and approached with slow, measured steps.

There he was. Cedric lay on the bed, covered in a white sheet. His gray eyes, which had stared up at the sky without seeing it, were closed now, but his face still showed the look of profound fear he had worn in his last moments. Rooted to the spot, Harry forced himself to look into it. He needed to be staring directly at him to make his promise, and he hoped beyond anything that wherever Cedric was now, he was no longer afraid.

"I'm sorry, Cedric," Harry whispered, his heart pounding so hard and his eyes watering. "I-I'm sorry I never really got to know you. I'm sorry that this happened to you, and I wish ..." He choked back a sob. "I wish I could have saved you. I swear, I ... I will fight for you. I promise."

And with that, Harry had to look away. He knew it had been the right thing to do this, but seeing Cedric again had sapped all the strength from his body. He suddenly felt lightheaded, and saw spots dancing in front of his eyes.

"Harry! Harry! Oh, sweetie, can you hear me?" Mrs. Diggory's voice seemed to come from a great distance away. "Harry, honey, it's going to be all right."

"We should not have let you do this. It was too much for you," came the stricken voice of Mr. Diggory. "Merlin, I'm sorry."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. The spots grew bigger and bigger in front of his eyes, and everything started to fade. The last thing he felt was a pair of strong arms catching him in their hold.

Then, Harry knew no more.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews. I am so glad everyone is still liking the story.

In regards to the Diggory's behavior, we honestly didn't see a lot of them in canon, especially when it comes to how they react to Harry. We know they didn't blame him for Cedric's death, but they didn't really talk to him that much. I feel that I am just expanding on their characters, and they will play a much bigger role in this fic than they did in canon.

Please enjoy this chapter!

Xxxxxxxxxx

Still under the Disillusionment Charm, Sirius Black watched with heartache as Mr. Diggory dropped an unconscious Harry onto his bed in the regular part of the hospital wing. Gently, Mrs. Diggory tucked the covers around him, making sure he was comfortable, even though Harry was past seeing or hearing what was currently going on. Minerva McGonagall hurriedly walked to Madam Pomfrey's office to retrieve her, so she could take a look at Harry, even though it seemed as though his unconscious state was due to his mind simply shutting down, unable to process any more.

At that moment, Sirius would have given the whole world just to reveal himself, to rush to his godson's side, to hold him in his arms and take all the pain away. But he knew he couldn't; he had to keep himself hidden in order to keep himself safe. After all, what good would he be to Harry if he slipped up now? He would never forget the pleading quality in the young voice as Harry begged him to see reason, and it was the only thing keeping him afloat now.

Madam Pomfrey moved quickly into the room, and immediately ran her wand over Harry. She kept a brisk manner about her, but it was plain to see that she had also been affected by the events transpiring around her. She gave a relieved sigh as her examination finished. "He will recover," she said softly. "Everything has just caught up with him. He needs to sleep for a while." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a potion vial. "This will help him stay asleep for several hours," she said as she uncorked it. "It's not one for dreamless sleep, as his mind is too troubled for that to help him, but this one should allow him to regain some of his strength."

Sirius sighed as he saw Mrs. Diggory prop Harry into a sitting position, and she gently opened Harry's mouth so the mediwitch could pour the potion down Harry's throat. He was relieved that she had understood the problems Harry had been through with the Dreamless Sleep potion. Being a trained Healer, she had spotted the signs when she had seen Harry right after waking this morning. However, Sirius was afraid of the horrors that would stalk Harry as he slept now, but he also knew his body could not handle being awake for the next while. Even though he had known logically that this had been the reason for Harry's fainting episode, he was infinitely thankful for Poppy's confirmation of it.

Pride and grief swelled in Sirius's heart as Mrs. Diggory helped Harry to lie down again. He had been there with Harry all through his talk with the Diggorys, and had followed him to the room where Cedric lay. When he had seen Cedric's body, still and pale with a look of fear plastered on his face, Sirius had felt a fresh bout of helpless fury roil through him. Peter Pettigrew had taken another life, someone who was an innocent in all of this and who had so many hopes and dreams in front of him. Cedric's statuelike appearance had brought Sirius back to all the civilians he had seen fall during Voldemort's first rise, all the people he was unable to save. The looks on their faces matched Cedric's to a tee; they had been caught up in something they never would have imagined. Those frozen faces had burned behind his eyelids through all his years in Azkaban, and Sirius almost couldn't handle being confronted with another one.

Sirius's breathing had grown constricted as he had witnessed Harry summon all the bravery he possessed, and look directly into Cedric's face, promising him that he would continue to fight. His emerald eyes had been so full of heartache and sorrow, and Sirius fell apart with him. It had been no wonder that in the moments after, Harry's body had given out on him. As Sirius saw Mr. Diggory catch Harry, he wished that he could have been the one to do it. He felt like his heart was bleeding for the courageous, amazing boy who lay in the bed now, fast asleep as the potion worked its way through his system.

Mrs. Diggory's eyes were soft as she gazed upon Harry. Squeezing his hand gently, she turned to the others in the room. "Amos and I must go now," she said, blinking rapidly to keep tears from escaping her eyes. "We need to take Cedric to our local funeral parlor."

"We will inform you of when the funeral is to take place," Mr. Diggory added, every word costing him a great effort.

Mrs. Diggory nodded. Turning to Minerva, she went on, "Please take care of Harry. He possesses bravery beyond anything I have yet seen. I would also like you to let Harry know he is invited once the funeral date is set. Under no circumstances are we forcing him to attend; that poor boy has been through enough. I fear it has already been too much." Her eyes returned to the boy on the bed, and she tenderly touched his hand. "But we want him to know he is welcome."

"Thank you for everything you've done for us," Mr. Diggory said as his face crumpled. "Thank you for making our Ced's time here at Hogwarts so special to him."

"Amos, Eileen, we are all so sorry," said Madam Pomfrey quietly. She embraced Mrs. Diggory, and shook Mr. Diggory's hand. Sirius could sense the raw emotion radiating from her, even though she was making an enormous effort to suppress it. As a Healer, it was extremely painful to know that Cedric was past her ministrations. Every life was precious, yet Poppy could not save this one.

After some final words were exchanged, the Diggorys departed, leaving Sirius, Minerva, and Poppy in the room. The weight of all the emotions felt extremely oppressive as several seconds of silence passed.

Finally, Sirius could hold back no longer, and took the Disillusionment Charm off himself. "Merlin," he whispered once he reappeared to everyone. "Harry ... he went above and beyond anything expected of him. But I was right; it was entirely too much." He turned accusing eyes on Minerva, daring her to disagree.

"Maybe," she conceded, sighing heavily. "But I think this will ultimately help him in his recovery. Amos and Eileen Diggory's support should go a long way."

Sirius knew this was true, but as he watched Harry's chest rise and fall in sleep, he thought of how much this morning's ordeal had cost him. Had it truly been worth it, to put himself through that? Would it really help him move forward? Recalling the agony in Harry's eyes before he had fainted in Mr. Diggory's arms, Sirius severely doubted it. Not knowing how to answer, he turned his eyes away from Minerva and back to Harry.

Madam Pomfrey ran her wand over Harry again, and then spoke to the two anxious adults. "Harry needs his rest now," she said, her voice adopting a stern tone. "And you two need to leave his bedside. He needs complete silence around him so he can receive the best sleep possible."

Minerva glanced back at Harry, and nodded at the Healer, even though regret showed in her expression. "I must attend to my other Gryffindors," she replied. "I trust that Mr. Potter will receive the care he requires."

"Of course, Minerva," Poppy said. "I will make sure of that."

Minerva nodded, and looked over her shoulder at Harry one last time as she exited the room, her footsteps clicking on the tiled floor. It was clear by her mannerisms that she was loath to leave Harry alone.

Once she was gone, Sirius turned to Poppy with a stubborn, furious look on his face. "I'm not leaving him," he barked, his entire body rigid. "Do you think I'd even think about it when he's in a state like this? You can't be serious! And where do you expect me to go? I can't very well leave this room and wander around the castle, can I?" His hands went to his hips as he glared defiantly at the woman beside him.

"You know very well what I mean, Mr. Black," Poppy said, an equally stubborn expression on her own face. "You can go elsewhere in the wing; Mr. Potter's bed is the only one occupied at the moment. It will do you no good to sit here and just watch him sleep. This potion's effects last for several hours, and this rest is crucial for him. He doesn't need you to guard him every minute."

Sirius opened his mouth, a million responses flooding through his mind. Yes, he does, he wanted to scream. You have no idea what you're talking about. Someone needs to be there to guard him from the nightmares. Someone has to be there to love him, even if he's not awake to know it. You haven't failed him all these years, but I have. I refuse to leave his side, even for a moment.

But at the precise moment he was going to let his diatribe loose, the doors of the hospital wing opened, and Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley entered, making a beeline for Harry's bed. Instantly, Madam Pomfrey cast a Silencing Charm around it, and stood up to intercept them, leaving Sirius where he was. Sirius hoped with everything he had that in the meantime, Poppy would reconsider, and let him stay where he was.

She closed the curtains around Harry's bed, leaving Sirius and Harry alone. Gratefully, Sirius heaved a sigh as silence permeated his surroundings. Because of the charm, he was unable to hear the noise around the rest of the wing, and he briefly wondered what was being said on the other side of the curtain. But as he gazed upon his sleeping godson, he knew none of it mattered. He was now going to do as he had promised himself, and be the one to guard Harry from any harm that might come upon him, even if it was caused by his own mind.

Xxx

Ron Weasley stared into space as he sat in a chair that was situated much too far away from Harry's bed for his liking. He, Ginny, and Hermione, against their better judgment, had been convinced by Madam Pomfrey to let their friend sleep. She had told them that Harry had been awake while they were eating breakfast in the Great Hall, but now needed more rest. Ron was positive there was more to the story, but the matron wouldn't elaborate. All she did was reassure them that Harry was recovering.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had tried to convince her to let them go to their friend, but Molly Weasley had eventually put her foot down. She and Madam Pomfrey had compromised with them, allowing them to stay in the wing so they could at least be near him, but imploring them not to bother him. They knew Sirius was keeping watch over him, so knew someone was making sure of his comfort and safety, and that was intensely reassuring. But at the same time, Ron and Hermione in particular felt responsible for his well-being too. Harry was their best friend, and after the ordeal he had just been through, they didn't want to spend a second away from him.

After coming to this compromise, Mrs. Weasley and Bill left to return to the Burrow. Molly had been in tears, wrapping her children in a bone-crushing hug and repeatedly telling them to take care of themselves. As much as Ron sometimes felt resentment towards his mother for things like his maroon socks and the dry, boring roast beef sandwiches, it was in moments like these that he knew those feelings were stupid. Molly loved all of her children, and she tried her best to do right by every one of them. And as his mother had hugged him goodbye, Ron could feel the fear and horror radiating off her, the terror that the war which had ended fourteen years ago was soon to start again.

And now, as Ron sat in a chair with Hermione on one side of him and Ginny on the other, he felt that same fear too. He hadn't known what it was like to grow up at the height of You-Know-Who's power, but the stories he'd heard of those years filled him with raw fright. When the bloodshed and violence came to an abrupt halt, the wizarding world had celebrated for days, for the dark and devastating period in their history had finally ended. Life could go on, and healing could begin. Facing the prospect of more battles, more death, and more grief was not something anyone wanted to consider.

Ron would never forget the awful feeling that had flooded him last night as he had watched Harry and Cedric disappear from the maze. For so long, Ron had envied Harry, envied the fact that he was idolized and worshipped, envied that he seemed so much more confident and worthy than poor, inadequate, stupid Ron. Harry had money, fame, and status, and Ron had none of those things. He was made fun of for his hand-me-down clothes and shabby possessions, and more often than not, jealousy raged inside him. Harry always seemed so unafraid, willing to do whatever it took to accomplish his goals. Through all the adventures Ron had participated in with Harry, he had felt honored to be a part of them, but he knew he wasn't the hero. For Merlin's sake, Hermione did so much more than him too; even in her petrified state, she had done more to help in the Chamber of Secrets than he had. It was her, after all, who discovered the monster in the school was a basilisk.

But it was at the moment when Harry and Cedric disappeared that Ron felt his stomach plummet, and for a split second, he felt like he would lose everything he had eaten in the hours previous. For so much time, he had believed Harry to have put his own name in the Goblet of Fire. He, who was supposed to be Harry's best friend, had let his jealousy blind him, believing the delusion that Harry had wanted all the attention. Even when he had finally gotten a clue and realized he was wrong, envy still ate at him, corrosive and destructive. It wasn't until Harry and Cedric went missing that all his senses awoke, and he was pummeled with the knowledge that this entire thing had been a setup. And now Harry was Merlin-knows-where, and Ron was useless as usual, unable to fight beside him when it mattered most.

As the minutes passed and the noise of the crowd intensified into a roar, Ron felt more and more nauseated. Where was Harry? What was happening to him? He had put his arm around Hermione on one side, Ginny on the other, and all three had sat, the intensity of their shaking increasing as time dragged on.

And then, Harry had returned. Nothing could have prepared Ron for the sight that had met his eyes then. Harry, his composure gone, trembling and sobbing and clinging to Cedric, who lay glassy-eyed and frozen and so terribly, horribly, unimaginably still. Cedric, who Ron had also said disparaging things about, Cedric who Ron hadn't cared less about before, but who was now unresponsive and vacant and never coming back. He was dead.

The rest of that night had blurred together into one long blob, and even now, in the light of morning, Ron could barely see straight. All he knew was that in the span of one day, everything he thought he knew had changed. The universe had shifted, and nothing would ever be the same again. And as he sat here in the hospital wing with Hermione and Ginny, he had never been more terrified, nor felt more regret for his past behavior, in his entire life.

He turned to Hermione, and what he saw on her face scared him even more. Throughout there four years at Hogwarts, Hermione had always seemed to have the answers; she had never doubted the direction their lives were going in. But looking at her now, the fragility and fear in her eyes almost undid him. For once, Hermione Granger was as vulnerable and lost as he was.

It was Ginny, however, who voiced what all three of them were thinking. "What do we do now?" she whispered, her own eyes full of the rawness and shock they all felt. "Where do ... where do we go from here?"

"They think he did it," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible, but the horror in it couldn't be more apparent. "They think Harry murdered Cedric."

Oh yes, Ron thought, her words making it real all over again, because that was truly the worst of it, wasn't it? It was bad enough that Harry had endured the trauma of last night. It was bad enough that Ron's guilt was almost suffocating him. It was bad enough that he had been jealous, and suspected his friend of betraying him by not telling him how he got past the age line. Ronald Bilius Weasley had already been the worst friend imaginable, and now, he was terrified that he would still be a failure. After all, how could he possibly shelter Harry from the vicious conspiracy theories that were circulating around Hogwarts now?

He, Hermione, and Ginny had heard the snatches of conversation as they had sat in the Great Hall eating breakfast. As they'd looked around the room, they had seen many students with tears streaming down their faces, grieving for their fallen classmate. But they had also seen the speculative looks and heard the low whispers that had penetrated through the hall, and the murmurs of "Potter" and "murderer" that had buzzed through the atmosphere like a hive of venomous bees. It had taken everything Ron possessed not to go storming over to the whisperers and punch their lights out. How dare they perpetuate such lies! They shouldn't even be allowed to say Harry's name! They were a bunch of cowards who didn't know the meaning of loyalty if it bit them on the arse.

But, Ron thought as Hermione let out a small sob beside him and he put an arm around her, I've been a disloyal coward, too. Has Harry truly ever grabbed for attention? Did he want any of this? And Ron always drew the same conclusion now: the answer was always a firm, resounding "no".

Ginny spoke up again, and even though there was fear in her eyes, her voice was suddenly strong and unyielding; the uncertainty and vulnerability were gone. "We fight for Harry, that's what we do. We prepare to fight You-Know-Who, and we defend Harry. We know the truth, and we won't let the bloody Ministry and those other stupid fools win."

Ron stared at his little sister, and his heart swelled with love and pride. Ginny was afraid, just like him and Hermione, but she was standing tall. And as her eyes bored into his, Ron vowed to do the same. There was no more time for envy, for wishing things were different, for doubt and uncertainty. There would be many battles to fight in the coming days, but Ron was now truly going to be Harry's best friend. He would meet them all head-on, and counter each attack blow by blow.

"Yes," said Hermione, who had now regained her composure and was looking at Ginny with pride as well. She exchanged a glance with Ron, and squeezed his arm. "Whatever it takes."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hello everyone. I'm really sorry I haven't updated in so long. Things have been extremely busy lately and there has been a lot on my mind. I am very happy to now get back to writing, and I really hope this update is worth the wait.

In regards to Rita Skeeter, she will definitely play a role in this story; you will see her involvement in the plot later on.

I really hope you enjoy this, and thank you so much for the reviews. This chapter is between Sirius and Dumbledore; we haven't seen Albus since chapter 1, after all. But, in the next chapter, Sirius and Harry will have a heart to heart.

Again, I hope you enjoy this one.

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Every bone in Sirius's body screamed at him to return to Harry's bedside, even though the boy was beyond hearing him at this moment. After all, Madam Pomfrey was right; the sleeping potion in his system was keeping him immobile for now. Sirius despised that the old man across the desk from him was taking him away from his first priority again, but he knew it was better to have this conversation here in Madam Pomfrey's office than it would have been to have it by Harry's bed, where his godson could wake up and hear it.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since Sirius and the Headmaster had been in this position, but it felt like a multitude of events had happened since then. He was honestly surprised that the old man had waited this amount of time to speak to him again, and the ex-convict truly dreaded what scheme Albus had come up with now to try and pry him away from Harry. Whatever it is, I won't fall for it, he vowed solemnly. A pinprick of guilt jabbed through him as he wondered how it had come to this, that he was thinking such vicious thoughts about a man he had fought for, who he had once looked up to and respected. But in the next instant, it was gone; he had a much bigger purpose now. It didn't matter what Albus's goals were, or how noble his intentions; Sirius's sole mission was to protect Harry's well-being.

Minutes earlier, as he'd sat by Harry's bed watching him sleep, thankfully no longer being disturbed by Madam Pomfrey, his mind had come to some other harrowing and devastating realizations. Last night and throughout the course of the morning, he'd been so entirely focused on Harry's emotional turmoil, and his goal of helping the boy recover from the catastrophic events of the night before that his conscious mind had blocked out the physical danger the boy had been in. To put it plainly, his beloved godson had almost been brutally murdered the night before. When Harry had explained, with a trembling voice the previous evening, of the occurrence of Priori Incantatem, he had been completely and utterly overwhelmed by the thought of James and Lily's ghosts appearing from the end of Voldemort's wand and helping Harry escape, and consumed by the raw jealousy that Harry had gotten to speak to them and see their faces, if only for an instant. He remembered the shame he felt over that selfish jealousy; he, after all, had gotten to know them, gotten to love them, and it was his own arrogance, his own presumption that he knew exactly what he was doing, his own stupid, foolhardy, idiotic plan that had gotten them killed. Harry had gotten fifteen months with them, fifteen months that he probably remembered none of. In his opinion, Harry had much more of a right to grieve for them than he did.

Then had come the heart-stopping gratitude that even in death, they had been there for their son during a moment when Harry had needed them most, and it filled Sirius with such love for them that he thought the emotion would literally knock him over; it had swept over him with such intensity he was sure he would break right then and there. But it wasn't until a few minutes ago, as he watched Harry lying asleep after his ordeal with Cedric and the Diggorys, that it really hit him. His best friends had truly saved Harry's life, had given him the courage to struggle on when giving up must have looked like a sweet escape.

And looking at Albus now, any remaining guilt he felt towards how he was treating the other man instantly evaporated. If he had full control of his faculties at the moment, he might have had an inkling that the vitriol he was about to unleash was somewhat irrational, but right now, the thought didn't cross his mind. He felt as though a huge weight was crushing down on his chest, compressing his lungs with such a vengeance so that he felt like taking a single breath was agony. Moments earlier Dumbledore had asked benignly, "How is young Harry coping?" He had asked it so innocently, so nonchalantly, and Sirius's senses had been immediately flooded by rage. Dumbledore had then explained that Madam Pomfrey had informed him of what had happened between Harry, the Diggorys, and his emotional parting promise to Cedric.

"Oh, how is Harry doing?" Sirius whispered in a hoarse voice, but the single sentence carried an extraordinary amount of venom in its path. "How can you even ask such a thing, Dumbledore? How do you truly expect him to be faring after everything he's been through?"

"Sirius," Dumbledore said in that soothing, unflappably calm tone of his that had comforted Sirius in the past, but now only stoked the flames in his soul. "You must know, I care about Harry too. I mean no offense by my question."

As Sirius stared into Dumbledore's eyes, the fury he felt suddenly disappeared, and a rush of sadness took its place. It was true; Dumbledore meant no disrespect towards Harry, and a profound realization seized Sirius in that moment. The man sitting across from him, looking old and weary, had been involved in so many battles, so many wars, and had seen an infinite amount of casualties. He had defeated Grindelwald and had led the fight against Voldemort during the First War, and was gearing up for a second one. And it was because of all of this, Sirius realized, it was because of all the bloodshed, carnage, and violence he'd witnessed, that he was now numb to it. He could deliver platitudes, speak words of supposed wisdom to those who were grieving, but could not truly feel the losses anymore. His thoughts were always about the bigger picture, about who could be sacrificed to achieve the goal of defeating Voldemort. At that instant Sirius knew Albus still had a heart, still had a conscience, but it had been ravaged and spoiled by all it had seen.

A sigh of pure grief left Sirius's lips as he whispered, "I know." His voice was still hoarse, but it no longer had the venomous quality to it that it had before. "Albus, you need to understand, Harry's not doing well. He is emotionally taxed from his meeting with the Diggorys."

"I am sorry, Sirius," Dumbledore said, and Sirius knew the man meant it. "You know I never wanted things to happen this way."

"Neither did I," Sirius said quietly, holding the Headmaster's eyes. "But Albus, how could you not have known?" he asked, almost pleading with the other man for understanding. "Alastor Moody ... you two have been friends and comrades for so many years. How could Barty Crouch Junior have fooled you the entire year? An entire year, Albus, of staff meetings, meals in the Great Hall, conversations in the corridors ... how could you not have suspected?"

To this, Dumbledore simply had no response. He looked away from Sirius, almost like a child looking away from a parent when they were being scolded and didn't want to admit they deserved the disappointment. "There is nothing I can say that can truly make up for that error in judgment," he finally said, his eyes eventually raising and locking with Sirius's again.

Sirius sighed as the two held the stare for an indeterminable amount of time. After what seemed like an eternity, Sirius said, "I know you mean well, Albus, but there's something I don't think anyone has truly told you, and as someone who has failed Harry so completely for so long, I now need to be the one to put things right by telling you. Albus, when it comes to Harry ... you. Don't. Know. What. You're. Doing."

Dumbledore stared at him, and for a split second he looked shocked that someone would have the audacity to deliver such a statement. But the moment was so fleeting that anyone else could have blinked and missed it. Despite his now calm expression, however, not a word escaped Dumbledore's lips.

"I don't know what your plans are for Harry," Sirius said, and his resolve hardened again as he stared the other man down. Despite the fact that he now realized that Albus's psyche had been damaged by seeing so much war, and despite the pity and sympathy he felt towards this man he had once idolized, it only made his desire to fight for Harry a million times stronger. "But rest assured," he said, his voice now not angry, but filled with a sturdy resolve that it would be impossible to break, "I will not allow Harry to partake in any of them which do not have his best interests at heart. You and I both know what the prophecy says. We both know that one day, Harry will go up against that despicable monster for the final time, and one of them will be destroyed. I will make sure Harry is the one left standing when the dust settles, Albus, but your machinations will not play a role in that. You think it is your duty to protect the wizarding world, no matter the cost. Well, let me make one thing clear, Dumbledore. My godson will not be included in any sacrifices."

And with that, Sirius got up from his seat and left Headmaster and war leader Albus Dumbledore behind for the second time in two days. He had told the old man, in no uncertain terms, that Harry would not be included on his chessboard.

The horrible, inescapable truth of the prophecy had bludgeoned Sirius again as he had sat brooding by Harry's bedside. It made him sick to his core when he thought about the fact that the entire survival of the world was due to whether his godson succeeded in defeating the abomination known as Lord Voldemort. He wanted to pretend it didn't exist, wanted to wrap Harry up in a cocoon of love and protect him from harm, wanted to shelter him from all the pain and trauma he'd suffered. Helplessness strangled him, and his stomach churned with nausea at the realization that there would be many, many more battles in his godson's future.

But he vowed, as he once again took his place by Harry's bedside, that he would make sure that Harry survived to see the end of it all, and not just physically either. He would work, with every bone in his body, to make sure that Harry wouldn't break emotionally. Sadness swallowed him up again as he thought of Albus, already broken by a life full of bloodshed. As he took Harry's hand and squeezed it in his own, he said softly, "I promise, Harry, you will always have me. Always."

And as minutes lengthened into hours, Harry gently slept on.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hey everyone, and thank you so much for the reviews. I wanted to reassure you that yes, everything is in place now, I have finished setting the stage. I am sorry if the first part of this story moved too slowly.

This chapter will be a heart-to-heart talk between Harry and Sirius, which I know you have been waiting for. In the next one, however, things start to get messy, and you will see why. After all, we have Zacharias and his cohorts to deal with.

I hope you enjoy.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Harry regained consciousness slowly, sensation beginning to return to him. He yawned and rolled over, and the first thing he discovered was that there was a huge something lying atop his feet. After stretching, he gingerly put out his hand, and thankfully, his glasses were sitting on the nightstand. Picking them up, he placed them over his face.

It was then that he saw the enormous black dog sleeping on his bed, his mouth emitting loud snores. Sirius. A tiny smile found its way onto Harry's face as he saw his godfather's chest rise and fall in slumber. As a dog, he couldn't look more relaxed if he tried, and Harry wondered fleetingly if a dog could have nightmares like a human could.

At that thought, he was bombarded with a sudden influx of memory. Cedric's face, still frozen in that final, desperate look of helplessness and fear despite the fact that his gray eyes were now closed; the Diggorys, stricken in their debilitating grief; Harry's promise as he looked into the older teen's face, his vow to fight on, to never forget; the sudden feeling of lightheadedness, the realization that this was all too much, and he just couldn't cope anymore; all sensation leaving his body as he lost consciousness, and a pair of strong arms catching him as he fell into darkness.

Overwhelmed, Harry buried his face into Sirius's soft fur, wishing with all his being that he could just sink forever into the comforting warmth and never reemerge again. His hands began to stroke the dog rhythmically in an attempt to protect himself from the feelings surging up in him, clawing at his insides.

Then, Sirius suddenly moved, and Harry knew he was waking up. Embarrassed at his childlike behavior, Harry sat up instantly, and he removed his hands from the dog's soft fur.

Slowly, the dog sat up too, and he also yawned and stretched. He then gently placed his paws on Harry's knee, conveying a silent message of support. He then proceeded to look Harry directly in the eye, and his face morphed into a tender expression. Even though it was on the features of a dog, it seemed to capture Sirius's emotions towards Harry perfectly. His mouth opened, and a gentle barking sound escaped his lips.

For a reason that was unknown to Harry, the simple "woof, woof" sound Sirius made caused a well of emotion to rise up inside of him. Without being able to help it, his hands sank themselves into the soft fur again, and he stroked it as Sirius continued to bark. As the sound repeated, a smile pulled at the corners of Harry's mouth.

After another few soft barks, Harry felt a ripple travel through the dog's body. He took his hands from the fur once again, and within a few heartbeats, the human Sirius was sitting next to Harry on the bed, a warm grin on his face as his eyes crinkled in affection.

"Did you know," he said softly as he rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, "you used to love when I did that when you were a baby?"

Harry looked at him in surprise. "Really?" he asked.

"Yep," Sirius replied, his smile widening. "In fact, whenever I began barking, you'd laugh hysterically at the sound. You could be asleep, and I'd come into your nursery and start woofing at you. And no matter what, the noise would provoke the same reaction in you. Oh, the amount of times your mother would yell at me to let you sleep! But alas, I would do no such thing. I'd tell her you'd be content to let me say woof, woof to you the entire day, and never get tired of it."

Harry's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he couldn't help the pleasure he felt at this new information. Those fifteen months he had spent with his parents and their friends ... he had no real memory of them. But then, the feelings that had arisen at Sirius's barking came into his mind, and he wondered if the memories were still there somehow, buried beneath the surface. He also recalled the sense of comfort and security Sirius had brought to him the night before, and it gave him even more reason to think this was true.

"You truly were the cutest little baby," Sirius said as he continued to smile fondly at his godson. "And you have grown up into one of the bravest people I've ever met." The smile suddenly vanished, to be replaced with a look of profound sadness. "I am so sorry, kiddo," he said softly. "I wish I could have done something to help you with the Diggorys this morning. But I want you to know," he continued as he squeezed Harry's shoulder, "that I was with you the entire time. You did more than anyone could have expected of you, and I truly couldn't be prouder."

Harry stared into Sirius's soft gray eyes, and he was once again overwhelmed at the realization that Sirius was telling the truth. "Sirius, you kept yourself safe. That's all I want from you," he said quietly. "Thank you for being there with me. I ..." He swallowed, his throat feeling constricted. "I needed to say goodbye." After a moment, he asked hesitantly, "Who ... who caught me?"

"It was Mr. Diggory," Sirius replied, beginning to stroke Harry's hair in a soothing motion. Unconsciously, Harry leaned into the touch. "He and Mrs. Diggory made sure you were okay before they had to go." Sighing sadly, he continued, "Madam Pomfrey gave you a potion to keep you asleep for a while. Your body simply couldn't take anymore."

At this, Harry hung his head in shame. How humiliating, to have collapsed like that, especially in front of the Diggorys. They were the ones who had lost a son, and they were standing strong despite their unbearable sorrow. Harry, who had barely known Cedric and hadn't even liked him much in life, was the one falling apart.

"Harry, pup, look at me." Gently, Sirius lifted Harry's chin and forced him to look into his eyes. "You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of," he said, his voice still soft but full of undeniable strength. "You have been through a horrific ordeal, and I won't allow you to feel ashamed of your emotions."

Harry suddenly couldn't take it anymore; all the self-loathing and guilt washed over him in a huge tidal wave; why was everyone being so nice to him? If only they knew, he thought as his mind replayed all the compassion he'd been given, especially from the Diggorys, who Harry deserved it the least from. When he next spoke, he barely got the words out; he felt as though he was choking on them. "Sirius," he said, his voice coming out small and stricken. "Sirius, you don't understand. I ... I didn't like Cedric."

He had done it. Harry had finally admitted the terrible truth to his godfather, the knowledge that had been destroying him from the inside out ever since the moment he'd really understood what had happened, that Cedric was never coming back. He recalled the dread he'd felt this morning before his conversation with the Diggorys. Their compassion towards him, and the fact that they didn't hold him responsible for their son's murder ... it tore him up inside, because if they truly knew of the jealousy he'd harbored towards their son, they would have had a very different response to him. Harry had never been more sure of anything.

But before he had a chance to think any further, and to realize that he might have turned his godfather away forever, he felt Sirius's strong arms pull him into an embrace. Astonished, he tried to pull away, but Sirius would have none of it. As he folded his arms around the shaking boy, he whispered, "And that knowledge is slowly tearing you apart, kiddo. You are now spending every single second thinking that your not liking him somehow caused this to happen." Once again, he forced Harry to look into the gray eyes that, even after Harry's terrible confession, held no condemnation, only love and concern. "Listen to me," he said, each word carrying with it a firm resolve to make Harry see. "Magic can do all sorts of things, kiddo, but it doesn't do that. You didn't make this happen by not liking him. And you would have never wished this on him, not in a million years."

When Harry continued to look astonished, Sirius put an arm around him again and began to rub his back. "I'm curious, though," he said softly. "What was it about Cedric that you didn't like?"

And Harry found himself telling Sirius more, feeling as though he was expelling the poison that had been inside his soul for what seemed like an eternity. "It's so stupid," he said, his voice filled with disgust. "It's for a really, really dumb reason. He was a far better champion than me. He always seemed to know what he was doing, and I had no clue. He had so many people who loved and cared about him, and they thought he was great because of who he was. He didn't have a stupid scar on his forehead, and they didn't only like him because he was famous. But it's all so stupid now, isn't it?" he asked, his voice full of shame and grief. "None of it matters now. He's dead. I was so stupid." Tears sprang to his eyes, and, unable to stomach discovering the look on Sirius's face, he sank his head deep into Sirius's shoulder.

Godfather and godson spent several moments like that, and Harry felt Sirius's arms tighten around him. For an indeterminable moment, Harry lost himself in the warmth, refusing to even wonder why Sirius was being so fiercely loving. He knew this only added to his stupidity and selfishness, and knew he'd be filled with humiliation later, but for now, he stopped caring.

Eventually, the flood of emotions ebbed slightly, and he finally had the courage to pry himself away. Thankfully, he had regained control of himself by the time he looked at Sirius again.

Then, Sirius spoke, and the words were filled with an endless conviction that surprised Harry beyond belief. "It's not stupid," he said fiercely, grasping Harry by the shoulders. "It's not stupid at all." He caught Harry's eyes and held them for a long time, and the gaze was unfaltering. "But, I assure you, I will make it my mission to make sure you never, ever feel like that again. You will never feel like you are not loved, not treasured and cherished for who you are. I know how the wizarding world treats you, and I understand completely how it makes you feel. But Harry, what you don't understand is that you do have people who love you just as much as the people who loved Cedric Diggory. Last night, I vowed to you that I would never allow myself to leave your side again, and I meant it. You're stuck with me now, and you will come to know that I don't give one single damn if you have a scar on your forehead or not. I don't care how many Dark Lords you defeat, and monsters you vanquish. Simply put, I love you for being you. You are Harry, my godson, and I love you."

And as he pulled Harry back into his arms, the boy was swept up in another wave of overpowering feelings, and he finally allowed the tears to come. He felt as though his soul was slowly being unburdened as the emotions poured out of him, and as he bathed in the safety and security of Sirius's warmth, he let them free.

After several minutes, the wave finally passed, and exhaustion settled over Harry again. His head continued to rest on Sirius's chest, and he luxuriated in the sensation until he suddenly felt a ripple run through Sirius's body again. Once it was over, soft, fluffy fur replaced the fabric of the shirt Sirius was wearing.

And as Harry sighed in contentment, a small smile pulled at his lips as Sirius let out the noise which had always meant so much to him, a noise which caused Harry to snuggle deeper into the body of the huge dog that would always protect him, no matter what.

"Woof, woof."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hello, and thank you all so much for the amazing reviews.

In regards to Harry's dislike of Cedric, yes, it is true that he resented him for dating Cho Chang, and I accept that as a reason. But I always thought it went deeper than that, and therefore, I am expanding on that idea.

As I warned you in the last chapter, this one is pretty nasty, considering the feelings of some of our characters. However, it will be different than what I originally thought of doing.

In the last few days, I have thought more deeply about where I want this story to go, and my plans have changed. Chapter 3, where Harry is accused of murder, will still be very relevant to the plot, so that is why I will keep it the way it is. You will see where I tie it into the plot as the story progresses.

But I also considered another angle which I haven't really seen explored before, and I wanted to create a story arc around it. All I will say about it is that in our history, many awful decisions have been made purely out of fear, and this fictional example will be one of them.

Please let me know what you think.

Xxxxxxxxxx

The sickness Susan Bones had started to feel in her stomach had now reached a fever pitch as she sat in the Hufflepuff common room with many of her housemates, in exactly the same position as they had been for hours. Susan wished with all her being that her owl would swoop in through the window, carrying a message from her aunt. True to her word, she had sent the letter in the early hours of the morning, and she was absolutely desperate for a reply.

The mood of the Hufflepuffs around her had only grown worse since they had gone to the Great Hall for breakfast. The Hufflepuff table had been full of tearful and stricken students, many of whom had not laid a single finger on their food. As the meal had drawn to a close, Dumbledore had stood in front of the room, and with a somber, sorrowful tone, had told the students in no uncertain terms that they should leave Harry Potter alone. He had been through a terrible ordeal, and should be allowed to recover in peace.

Susan had known what this announcement would do to many of her housemates, and her theory was proven correct as many faces blanched in fury. Dumbledore had given them all a piercing look, and that had seemed to cow some of them, but this had not lasted long.

On their way back to the common room, she had heard Zacharias whisper to Cedric's best friend Melissa, "Poor, traumatized little Harry Potter. Dumbledore's favorite. Can't even show his face to admit what he's done, can he? Oh, innocent little Harry has been through soooooo much! Well, what about us? Cedric was one of us, what about how we're feeling?"

Susan was furious. Having known and cared about Cedric deeply, of course she felt sorrow beyond belief, but she also agreed with Dumbledore; Harry had been through something horrific. For Merlin's sake, it was possible to feel awful for Harry and grieve for Cedric at the same time! She had glared at Zacharias and Melissa angrily, but they had not given an inch.

Susan had not forgotten about Zach's proclamation this morning that he and anyone who stood with him would go to the hospital wing to deal with the so-called murderer, and she felt her blood run cold as, for the first time, she realized they finally had a moment to strike. Up until now, Professor Sprout had stayed in the room with her students, trying to offer comfort through her own grief. Susan knew her Head of House had also had a sleepless night; it was plain to see from the circles under her eyes, and her face was full of heartbreak at the loss of one of her prized, promising young students. Susan had tried her hardest to find a moment where she could warn her of the terrible theory some of her housemates had come to regarding Harry's role in Cedric's death, but it seemed as though Sprout was always with another student. But Susan also knew how observant the woman could be, and hoped with everything she had that she had an inkling of what was afoot.

But now, she had left the Hufflepuffs on their own, trusting that they could take care of each other while she took care of some business with other staff members. And Susan knew with a bone-deep certainty that Zach had been waiting for a moment like this; now, he could make his move.

But then, something unexpected happened; someone beat him to the punch. Another of Cedric's roommates, Jeffrey, took advantage of the silence that permeated the common room. As he stood up, he withdrew a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. He cleared his throat, and everyone watched him curiously as he began to speak.

"Listen," he said, his eyes fierce as they swept around the room, taking in everyone's faces, and the grief and fear that hung around the room like an ominous cloud. "I've had enough. We lost someone who was truly the best of us last night, and the teachers are doing nothing about Potter. And after Dumbledore's little announcement this morning, they aren't EVER going to do a bloody thing. The little darling gets away with everything, and at this very moment, he's being coddled in the hospital wing, being told that oh, everything's okay, don't worry about it, Cedric's death wasn't your fault, no big deal. Well, I'm sick of it. I won't stand for it anymore."

"Yeah," spat Malcolm, who had been so hostile to Susan earlier this morning. "The little murderer is finally going to get his."

"Now, that's where we disagree," said Jeffrey, causing Malcolm and some of the others, including Zach, to look at him in shock.

"How can you be sick of Potter if you're one of his little fans, then? My best friend is dead because of him," snarled Melissa, her hands on her hips as she glared venomously at Jeffrey.

"Hey, I'm not finished," Jeffrey shot back defensively, his voice growing louder. "I didn't say it's not Potter's fault Cedric's dead. I only said he didn't murder him."

Susan found herself standing before she could think better of it, and her disgusted voice rang out through the common room. "What are you saying, then?" She hissed. "Get on with it. What insane conclusion have you drawn?"

"Don't talk to me that way, stupid," Jeffrey sneered. "Just because you don't care a wit about Cedric ..."

"Don't you dare!" Hannah shrieked, standing up and clasping Susan's shaking hand in her own. "We can mourn Cedric and not think Harry responsible!"

"Yeah, right," Jeffrey snorted. "You're delusional. Can't you see it? What I've been attempting to say is that ever since Potter arrived at Hogwarts, there's been nothing but trouble. Every year since he's gotten here, something weird has happened that isn't supposed to."

"Yeah, you're right," chimed in Frank, who was a fifth year. "There hasn't been a peaceful year since Potter started coming here. Remember the end of first year? There were all those rumors about the third-floor corridor, and at the Leaving Feast, all those points were given to Potter, Weasley, and Granger for some heroic deed."

Susan watched with sick fascination as several more people in the room stood, coming alive with animation and energy for the first time in hours. "Second year, there was the Chamber of Secrets," piped up Nancy, who was also a fifth year. "All those people petrified, including Justin."

"Don't bring me into this," Justin Finch-Fletchley snapped as he stood and faced the room as well. "Whatever this conspiracy theory is you're concocting about Harry, I'm not involved. I hate that I used to be scared of him. I was so stupid."

"Pity you still aren't afraid of him," said Zach, looking livid. "He'll end up killing you too."

"Shut up!" Susan roared, her eyes filling with furious tears. Hannah laid a hand on her shoulder, looking nauseated by everything that was going on.

Jeffrey continued speaking, his voice drowning out Susan's. "Everyone knows it was Ginny Weasley who was taken down into the Chamber," he said pompously, jutting his chin out. "And everyone and their grandmother knows that the Weasley family are extremely close to Potter. He's got that whole family wrapped around his little finger."

"Are you forgetting that the boy risked his life to go down there and save her?" Hannah yelled, and Susan saw guilt flood her eyes again as she remembered her past accusations against him.

"Yeah, I do," Frank spat back. "And yet, he couldn't show that same courtesy to Cedric, could he? He couldn't save him, could he? He was more than happy to let him die, because after all, Cedric wasn't one of his precious Weasleys or Granger, was he?"

Nancy pointed a finger at Hannah, Susan, Justin, and some younger students in the room, including the Muggle-born named Elly Beckitt, who the two girls had been comforting earlier. "You're just too blind to see it, aren't you?" She said to them, in a patronizing tone which made the hairs stand up on Susan's body. "None of that stuff would have happened in the first place if Potter didn't attend Hogwarts! You-Know-Who's followers are completely obsessed with Potter, and will do whatever it takes to get to him. If he wasn't here, there wouldn't have been any third-floor corridor, no petrified students, and no rescues of Weasleys even necessary!"

"And no Dementors either," said a second-year named Haley, her soft voice full of fear. "They were only on the grounds because Black was after Potter. And people were saying that Black WAS on the grounds and escaped, and we never found out what happened."

"Exactly," said Jeffrey, who walked over to Haley and patted the frightened girl on the shoulder. "When it comes to Potter, everything he does is covered up, because he's Dumbledore's little darling. After all, this year, nothing was done to stop him competing in the Triwizard Tournament when he shouldn't even have been in the running."

"Yes," said Nancy, her face collapsing into grief for Cedric. "I don't think You-Know-Who's back. He's been dead for thirteen years, that's impossible. But that doesn't mean there aren't Death Eaters out there who aren't obsessed with killing Harry. We still have no idea who was behind that Chamber of Secrets thing. All we ever found out was that Potter saved the sschool from the monster, and that Ginny Weasley was rescued too."

"Right," said Jeffrey, nodding in assent. He then unfolded the piece of parchment he had taken out of his pocket, and held it up for everyone. He cleared his throat again, and said, "I have a better way of getting the staff and Ministry to listen to us. If the people in here who believe Potter murdered Cedric bring their accusations forward, there will be those who don't believe it. But this ..." He waved the piece of parchment he was holding, "if we present this instead, and get other Hogwarts students on board to sign it, it could still make the school a lot safer. I think many, especially parents, will understand where we're coming from, particularly after this year". He straightened up and stared out at the room again, before he slowly and deliberately began to read:

"We, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, strongly believe that Harry Potter should be removed from the premises. His continued attendance here poses a danger to all those who associate with him. Ever since his arrival, a number of unprecedented events have occurred here which has put the entire student body in harm's way.

"Last night, we lost a dear friend through no fault of his own. His life was tragically cut short due to the fact that he was in the vicinity of Harry Potter. We feel it is our duty to protect every other individual in this school by imploring that Potter be relocated to somewhere safe.

Signed:

Jeffrey Bushman."

"Jeff, that's not enough!" shouted Melissa in the ringing silence that followed. "We don't just want him out of the school, we want him in Azkaban! He wasn't just some innocent little lamb who watched Cedric die, he murdered him!"

"How dare you!" Susan shrieked at the same time, ducking and weaving through the crowd, trying with all of her strength to reach Jeffrey so she could snatch the parchment out of his hand and throw it into the fire which was still crackling merrily, oblivious to the horrifying scene which was taking place in the room. But several bigger boys, which included Malcolm and Cedric's third roommate, Andrew, blocked her path, holding her shoulders and keeping her from reaching him. Susan struggled and screamed, but their grip was bruising and far too tight.

And in that moment, the room dissolved into chaos. Susan felt as though reality was spinning out of control as sobs, yells, and whoops of victory at Jeff's actions surrounded her.

And she found herself doing something that had been constant ever since Harry had returned with Cedric's empty, lifeless body: she prayed with every fiber of her being that this was nothing more than a terrible, twisted nightmare.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hello everyone. First of all, I wanted to thank everyone who stuck with me after the last chapter, and welcome all of those new folks who are willing to take this journey with me. I know the last chapter was very ugly, and I had a few readers who left. If you ever read this author's note, I'm sorry the story got too much for you. I know it seems pretty ugly right now, and believe me, it is. I realized when I wrote it that some people might not like it, but I feel that this story was just begging to be told.

One of my readers said they don't believe anyone can be this dumb, and although I'd love to say I agree, I don't. I think that there are many things that have happened throughout human history, and even today, because people have made decisions out of both stupidity and fear. This is just a fictional example that I am writing about. But I would like to stress that no, I do not agree with it, not even 1%. And there will definitely be justice at the end of it all, but it will be a long way until we get there.

But I hope that you stick with me on this journey, I am very happy to have you on board with me. But for those of you who don't, I definitely understand as well.

Okay, onward.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Minerva McGonagall sat in the staff room, surrounded by all the other teachers. Albus had called them in for this meeting to discuss everything that was going on. There was a current of restlessness around the room, especially coming from the Heads of Houses. Although they knew that this staff meeting ranked high in importance, they were desperate to get back to their students; many were stricken and traumatized from the night before, even those who had not known Cedric Diggory well. After all, every single person attending Hogwarts had seen the boy's lifeless body.

Well, Minerva amended to herself, three of the Heads of Houses were there. Severus Snape was not, and she felt her stomach sink as the implications of that ran through her mind. Being a member of the Order, she knew well exactly where the man had been since late last night, and it terrified her. The fact that he had still not returned weighed heavily on her heart. He might be a dour, bitter, cynical, unpleasant man, but he was her colleague and someone she cared deeply about. And even if she didn't, even if she despised him, she would never, ever want him in the position he was now. Looking at Albus, she could see the strain and worry in those blue eyes of his; for once, they were not twinkling. Knowing Albus for as long as she had, she knew it was weighing on him too, although he would never show it.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Dumbledore said, looking somber as he took in all of his staff members. "I am sorry I have had to call this meeting, for I know several of you are anxious to return to your students. But we do have some urgent matters of concern to discuss." He sighed, looking all of his many years as his gaze continued to wander around the room.

"First," he continued, "I should inform you that Alastor Moody will make a full recovery."

Minerva sighed in relief at this statement, and all of her colleagues did the same. Anger flared in her gut when she imagined all that he had been through. What that despicable monster Crouch had done to him ... her fury was beyond description. He'd kept Moody hostage, starving and dehydrated in his own trunk for nine months. There had been several hours when it looked like the man was too weak to survive, but it seemed as though Madam Pomfrey had worked another miracle.

"Thank Merlin," Filius Flitwick breathed. "Has he awoken yet?"

"No," Dumbledore said, "but Poppy is positive that he will in a day or so. He is weak, but he will recover."

"Where is Crouch?" Pomona Sprout asked, her face full of heartache from all that had happened.

"The Ministry are holding him," said Albus, and Minerva could sense the anger he felt just below the surface. She felt it too, but knew she was not nearly as proficient at hiding it as Albus was; it was broadcast plainly on her face.

"That complete idiot we have as a Minister kept him from giving testimony to the rest of the world, and he did it on purpose," Minerva fumed. "I'm sorry, Albus. I tried my best to make Fudge see reason, but ..."

"You don't owe me an apology, Minerva," Albus said sincerely. "You tried your best, and I couldn't ask any more of you than that."

"Yeah," growled Hagrid, his face contorted in a fierce scowl. "Blibberin' fool. Crouch was a disgustin' human bein', but now that he can' tell the world anythin', we've got a problem."

"Yes, we do," said Flitwick, and his eyes fixed on Dumbledore as he went on. "Albus, we need to tell the students that Mad-Eye Moody was not their professor this year. You wouldn't believe the nasty things I've been hearing all day. There are students who are drawing their own conclusions. They think Harry Potter murdered Cedric Diggory, and they won't hear otherwise."

"Filius is right," said Minerva, her gaze penetrating as she looked at Albus. "This secrecy needs to end now. We allowed you not to disclose the fact that Quirrell was compromised in the worst possible way three years ago. We, against our better judgment, kept several of the details of the Chamber of Secrets quiet two years ago. But we can't let it stand this year. A boy is dead because none of us realized the truth, and because we did not prevent these horrific occurrences, You-Know-Who has returned."

At this statement, it was as though a Dementor occupied the room with them. The gravity of this pronouncement bludgeoned everyone with its intensity. Minerva knew from the looks on many faces that the majority of her colleagues believed this to be true. Only Vector and Sinistra looked dubious, but they did not say anything to contradict her. What do they think's going on, then? Minerva thought, feeling a stab of anger. They don't believe Harry murdered Cedric as well, do they?

Albus looked seriously at all his staff, his face creasing into a frown. "I think telling the students that their teacher was a vicious Death Eater will only traumatize them further," he stated, his voice sad but chiding at the same time. Hagrid nodded in agreement, and this infuriated Minerva. Everyone in the room knew how loyal Hagrid was to Dumbledore, and Minerva knew his heart was always in the right place. But she also knew he often agreed with Albus without thinking, and as she thought back over her own time working under him, she was disheartened to discover she had done the same thing. She still cared for Albus deeply, and would do most of what he asked of her. But after her epiphany and self-reflection, there were things she could no longer condone, and it couldn't be clearer that many of the staff felt the same.

"Maybe, in the short-term, you're right. I have no doubt it will frighten them," said Flitwick. "But if you hide it from them, it will be much worse when they find out. Because believe me, Albus, they will find out, just like they will eventually discover the events of the Sorcerer's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets. Things of that magnitude don't stay hidden forever."

As Minerva stared at Albus's expression, she suddenly felt a wave of recklessness seize her. She knew that Albus was going to make one of his important speeches about why all of this should be kept quiet, and she realized she couldn't take it anymore. For decades she had not stood up to this man when deep down she'd known that many of his decisions were questionable, some flat-out morally wrong, and she had stood back and gone along with him. Well, no longer. If she was going to redeem herself, it would start now, in this very room.

"At this school, Albus, you are a Headmaster, not a war leader," McGonagall said fiercely. "Every decision you make here affects the lives of every staff member and student. I will no longer sit here and allow you to keep certain events from the students just because you feel your position is too important to lose. The students deserve nothing less than to be informed of the events that have occurred, as do their parents. And you need to deal with whatever the consequences are," she went on, pointing an accusing finger at the one person in her life she had once vowed never to cross. "I also wish to inform you that your plan has already backfired. Because the students do not know everything that has happened these past few years, they are coming up with their own conspiracy theories. Filius has already discussed this, but I shall enlighten you further. They are under the impression that Harry Potter whisked Cedric Diggory away from Hogwarts, murdered him, and brought his body back, subsequently blaming You-Know-Who. If you don't tell the students that Barty Crouch, Jr. was behind Harry and Cedric's disappearance, and that he was the one to put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire, it will only make matters worse. And I promise you, if you don't reveal this information, I will do it myself."

And with that, she got out of her chair, pushed it in, and marched out of the staff room. As she left, no one said a word, but she could feel the shocked stares of her fellow teachers on her back.

For the first time in years, Minerva McGonagall felt brave and purposeful, but she also felt shocked at her own brazenness. She had just given her superior, Albus Dumbledore, a severe tongue-lashing, and the most surprising thing of all was, she did not regret a word that had escaped past her lips, not a single one. She also knew it had not been a very dignified exit she had made either; after all, a woman as refined as Minerva McGonagall simply did not storm out of rooms. But she had indeed done so, and had no regrets about this either.

She was about to head back to Gryffindor Tower when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Whirling around, she looked into the kind, understanding eyes of her colleague and good friend, Filius Flitwick. He smiled softly at her, and she gazed back, touched that he had come after her.

"Well done, my friend," he said, his voice full of admiration. "You possess more bravery than I have. You said exactly what I was thinking, but didn't have the courage to say outright. You're not the only one who thinks there's something extremely wrong with this whole picture."

"Yes, well ..." Minerva shrugged, embarrassed at such high praise; she felt as though she did not deserve the accolades.

Flitwick patted her on the back, sensing her roiling emotions. After a moment of silence, he said, "I'll join you. If Albus doesn't inform the students by tomorrow morning, we'll do it together. We both know what this might cost us in his eyes, but frankly, this needs to be done."

"Thank you, Filius," said Minerva, her heart swelling with gratitude. "You don't know how much I appreciate that. I should have stood up to him much sooner."

"That makes two of us," said Flitwick, and Minerva could see the guilt on his face, the same guilt she herself had been wrestling with. The two gazed into each other's eyes, and their gazes sealed the pact between them.

"I'm sorry to cut it short, but I need to get back to my students," Flitwick said then, an apologetic tone to his voice.

"It's all right, Filius. I should be doing the same," said Minerva softly. "How ... how are they coping?"

"Not well," said Flitwick, looking grief-stricken. "Miss Chang ... that poor girl needs a lot of looking after. She went to the hospital wing last night to say a final goodbye to Mr. Diggory, and Poppy told me to come and retrieve her. I know we're not supposed to be physically affectionate with the students, Minerva, but in her case I couldn't stop myself. I took the poor dear to my office and held her for a long time, she literally cried herself sick. She kept repeating "he's so cold," and "he's so scared," and "Why? Why? Why? Why?" I finally got her to Ravenclaw Tower and gave her a sleeping potion from Madam Pomfrey. Before it took effect she kept whispering, "I loved him so much." Merlin, how are we all supposed to cope with things like this?"

The sorrow in her friend's eyes almost broke Minerva all over again, and not knowing what else to do, she embraced him. "I don't know," she whispered, wondering the same thing herself. Cho Chang's repitition of "why? Why? Why?" struck her like a hammer. It was one simple word, but to her, it represented everything. Why indeed? Why did the world have to be such a cruel, awful place?

After a few more seconds, the two friends broke apart, knowing what they had to do. "Thank you again for coming after me," said Minerva, managing a shaky smile for him.

"Of course," said Flitwick, returning the gesture. "We will do the right thing for Hogwarts."

"We will," Minerva murmured, her resolve never wavering. "We will."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hey all, and thank you so, so much for all the amazing reviews! I love your comments and suggestions, and they have given me a lot of ideas that I might incorporate throughout the rest of the story. I know the direction it will take, but the suggestions help cement it in my mind even more.

Please enjoy!

Xxxxxxxxxx

Susan and Hannah ran down the hallway, tears streaming down both their faces. Both were desperate to do something; the injustice that was playing out in front of their eyes was completely abominable. They needed to find a sympathetic ear, a professor who would listen to them and make everything okay again.

Susan had been incredibly lucky to get out of the clutches of those awful boys. Andrew had finally let her go with a sneer of contempt, saying, "Fine. Tell the professors, but you're not going to get far. They'll see that Jeff's right, that removing Harry will be for our safety."

And as soon as Susan had been released, she and Hannah had made a run for it. They'd left the common room as fast as their legs could carry them, and they were now running down the corridor.

It was a firm rule in Hogwarts that no student was allowed to go to the staff room, but Susan figured that the circumstances called for an exception to that rule. They had already pounded on the door of Professor Sprout's office only to receive no reply. It was her who they trusted the most; surely, she would understand, and make this whole awful situation better. After they had no luck in finding her in her office, Hannah had said with conviction, "We'll just go to the staff room, then."

As they continued their walk there, a walk that never seemed to end, Susan's heart pounded loudly in her chest. She had always known that there were people in her house who had a huge problem with Harry, but it seemed like before now, the comments about him were just phrases muttered beneath breaths, but for those individuals, Cedric's death had made their vitriol rise to a dangerous level. Susan had had many discussions with her Aunt Amelia over the years about how, when people were afraid, that fear could transform people into monsters, and make them do things that were beyond comprehension.

Cedric's terrified face, his wide-open, lifeless eyes, and the awful, undeniable stillness of his body filtered through Susan's mind again, and she knew she was terrified, too. But how was the solution proposed the right thing to do? True, Harry had a madman after him, and Cedric died because he was standing beside him at a pivotal moment. But how in Merlin's name was this Harry's fault? How could her housemates think that denying Harry a further Hogwarts education could solve the situation at all?

If anyone was to blame other than You-Know-Who and his disgusting band of followers, it was the adults' fault as well. Why hadn't they done more when Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire? Had they really been convinced that he had put it in himself? Well, she knew most of them had realized he hadn't. But why in Merlin's name hadn't more been done to stop Harry from competing? She understood it was a magical contract, but she wondered what could have happened if the contract had been broken. Surely, surely, it didn't work like an Unbreakable Vow? Would something terrible have befallen Harry if he didn't compete? And, if it had, why would something of that nature be done to school children? There were puzzle pieces that didn't fit, and there were things extremely wrong with this whole picture.

And now, many in Hufflepuff House were putting the blame for Cedric's death in entirely the wrong place. She remembered his broken, stricken sobs from the night before, and his refusal to let go of the older champion. Both faces screamed despair: Harry's grief-filled one and Cedric's empty, blank one. This would be etched forever into Susan's memory, and she and Hannah were going to make things right. They would do what Cedric would have wanted, and seek justice for the unfair blame that was being thrust onto Harry's shoulders. Looking into Hannah's tear-streaked face, she also couldn't be prouder of her friend; she knew Hannah was doing this to further seek redemption for her wrongful accusations two years ago.

There were also those in the house who thought Harry capable of murder, and Susan wished for the millionth time that her Aunt Amelia had replied to her owl by now. Anyone who could think that about Harry was delusional, she thought bitterly. Last night, his face had been like an open book, displaying all the grief and guilt he was feeling. She remembered the words of Jake, Melissa's boyfriend; how could anyone see a murderer when recounting those events?

Finally, they arrived at the staff room, and Susan, not caring if she landed herself in heaps of trouble, pounded on the closed door.

Susan felt an enormous relief swoop through her body as the door was answered by Professor Sprout. She looked very irate at being interrupted at first, but when she saw the girls' expressions and their red-rimmed eyes, her face changed. "Miss Bones, Miss Abbott," she said in a professional, businesslike tone. "We are currently in the middle of a staff meeting. What do you need?"

"They want to kick Harry out of Hogwarts," Hannah said, her voice shaking with anger and sorrow. "They're saying that him being here puts the whole school in danger because of what happened to Cedric."

"And some are accusing him of murder," said Susan, almost blinded by rage as she remembered Zacharias, Melissa, Malcom, and the group of others that had agreed; the anger swarmed through her anew.

"I think you should come inside," said Sprout, and there was a different tone in her voice now. The cadence was much quieter, but there was a fierceness in it now that hadn't been there before.

Both girls proceeded inside the room, and Sprout had them take seats. She then said to them, "Please explain further as to what you are talking about."

So, through returning tears which they couldn't stop, they did. They told the teachers about the conversation in the Hufflepuff common room, and Jeff's petition. "People were already signing it when we got out of there," Hannah said, her voice full of shock.

"Jeff was manipulating people into it," said Susan, revolted. "He kept scaring the younger students, telling them their friends would die if they didn't sign it, because You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters won't stop coming after Harry."

"It's so awful," said Hannah, viciously wiping tears from her eyes, but it was no use; more began to fall, replacing the ones that were gone. "What do we do?" she suddenly demanded, her voice desperate and imploring. "This is just wrong. Harry hasn't done anything wrong!"

Susan's countenance grew as fierce as Hannah's as she put an arm around the other girl in silent support. "What are you going to do about it?" she asked loudly, her ire at the staff coming to the forefront of her mind. Her eyes, penetrating and desperate, fixed on Dumbledore, who sat at the table looking very somber and sorrowful. "You need to help him! You've barely helped him all year when there were so many people who thought he'd put his own name in the Gobblet," she accused. "You just sat back and let him suffer through that tournament. You didn't even try to see why he was in it at all!"

"You are out of order, Miss Bones," said Professor Vector sternly. "You don't have the right to speak to us like this. We are your elders, and therefore, you should show us the respect we are entitled to."

"There was a moment of long, terrible silence, but Susan remained firm in her convictions. This had gone too far, and she wasn't going to back down now. Too much damage had been done, and she would not see any more added to it. Mustering up her courage, she replied, "Harry deserves respect too, ma'am, but he's not getting it. Cedric's roommate is going to force the whole school to go along with him and sign his stupid petition to remove Harry from Hogwarts. Hasn't he already been through enough? He already blames himself enough for what happened to Cedric. And now he's being accused of murder, and being blamed for having a target on his back! It's no fault of his that he has a bunch of lunatics that want to kill him and will destroy anyone standing in their path!"

"And I was awful to him two years ago," said Hannah, her shame displayed loud and clear. "I'm not going to let anything happen to him now. He didn't murder Cedric, and it's not his fault he died. You need to help him, right now."

"And we will, Miss Abbott," said Sprout, and Susan could see true respect on her face. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "You two are displaying the true loyalty of Hufflepuff. The fact that you have come forward shows your commitment to be there for and support Mr. Potter. And in doing so, you have my support as well." She turned her gaze to Vector, who still looked supremely annoyed at the tone of voice Susan had used to speak to them. "Septima, she has a valid point," she said quietly, her own voice filled with regret. "We barely helped Mr. Potter at all, and that is a situation that needs to be rectified."

Professor Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher, nodded, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "You have my word that we will help him," she whispered, but her voice still carried through the room. "We won't allow any more harm to come to him."

"We will speak with your housemates right now," said Dumbledore, who had been very quiet up to that point. He steepled his fingers on the desktop, his eyebrows knitted together in deep thought. "We will do what needs to be done."

From the corner of her eye, Susan could see the distrustful expressions some of the teachers, including Burbage and Sprout, were sending Dumbledore's way. The two of them were having a hard time hiding it, and it was this, more than anything, that made Susan's mind up for her.

In the past, it had been easy to trust authority, to reassure herself that the staff would get the job done. But after the year that had just passed, she had realized, with a jolt of alarm and fear, that they didn't know everything and were very fallible, too. And now, her position was only being reinforced by the way some of the staff were staring at Dumbledore, and realizing their own inaction.

And so, as she and Hannah left the staff room, they weren't going to walk away from this. Their mission to help Harry wouldn't stop here; they were resolute and staunch in their decision.

"Hospital wing?" Susan asked Hannah, her steps sure and purposeful.

"Hospital wing," Hannah agreed immediately, walking directly beside her.

Indeed, they were going to go and warn Harry of what was about to happen. They knew it would devastate the already emotionally taxed boy, and they hated to be the ones to do it, but they knew that someone had to. They would, undeniably, be gentle about it, but he had to know. Things were happening too quickly, and keeping the information from him would not be to his benefit.

Because if the staff, including Professor Dumbledore who was said to be the most powerful wizard in existence, couldn't help Harry, Susan Bones and Hannah Abott would make damn sure that they would do everything they could. Dumbledore's motivations were a mystery to them, but they didn't have time to suss them out. It was the well-being of one teenage boy that was currently on the line, and the two girls promised themselves that they would do all that was within their power to save him from the maelstrom.

It was the least they could do, and as they walked towards Madam Pomfrey's domain, an image of a softly smiling Cedric Diggory ran through their minds. They knew, without a doubt, that this was what he would have wanted as well. For him, as well as for Harry, they would achieve their goal.

Nothing would stop them now.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hello everyone. I hope you all had a fantastic holiday, and happy new year to all of my readers. I hope you had a wonderful start to 2019.

First of all, I wanted to apologize profusely for an incredibly awful continuity error I made in the last chapter. I realized that about five minutes after posting that I had Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick speak lines during the meeting with Susan and Hannah. At the end of chapter 10, I had them leave the meeting early and go back to their students. I changed it right away and instead gave the lines to both Pomona Sprout and Charity Burbage, because it's true that I want other teachers getting involved as well. It's strange, because I did remember that I'd done that, but when it came to writing the next chapter, I wrote it like Minerva and Filius were still in the meeting. All I will say in my defense is that I want both those teachers to be deeply involved, but I ended up really liking what I did instead. If anyone read the original version, I am really sorry. I will now be way more aware of errors such as that, and will think extra hard about the chapters as I am writing them.

Anyway, to answer some of my readers' questions, you will see Harry and Sirius's reactions in this chapter. In future installments, you will discover what Dumbledore and the staff decide to do about all of this. What happens at the end of this chapter isn't pretty, and I warn you that there is a cliffhanger. But the plot is really going to speed up after this.

I really hope you enjoy!

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Ron didn't think there had ever been a moment in his life when he felt as terrible as he did now. Hermione and Ginny, who were standing beside him, felt the same emotions; he could see it on both of their faces. He truly hadn't thought that things could get worse after last night, but he had been proven very wrong indeed.

Moments ago, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott had come by the hospital wing to deliver some grave news. Both girls had been frantic, and it was plain to see that they'd been crying. They'd wanted nothing more than to see Harry and break the news to him themselves, and give him all their support. But Madam Pomfrey had told them that Harry was not up for visitors, so instead, they had relayed the information to his best friends.

When the events in the Hufflepuff common room had been explained to them, they knew Harry needed to know. Hermione, in tears, had run to Madam Pomfrey's office, where she was sitting while Hannah and Susan told the trio what had happened. Hermione had gasped out the information to her, and begged her to let the girls tell Harry so he could be warned of what was to come.

But Madam Pomfrey had convinced them that because of the fragile emotional state Harry was in, it should be someone who knew him well who told him the news. It had taken some time, but eventually, they listened. The last thing they wanted to do was to hurt Harry even more.

But now, as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny opened the curtains around Harry's bed, they knew that this would hurt Harry very deeply. And honestly speaking, Ron had never been angrier in his entire life. It also made the guilt inside of him rise to new levels; how in Merlin's name had he ever wanted to be in Harry's shoes? As if he hadn't already been through enough. Now, less than twenty-four hours after a brutal and horrific ordeal, he would have to endure even more, and all because some people in this school found it in themselves to be vindictive and stupid, and they were letting their fear rule them.

Truth be told, Ron knew about the fear that was surrounding the school now, and unfortunately, he couldn't say he was immune to it. The fact that he and his entire family associated with Harry Potter put them at an insanely high risk, and now that You-Know-Who was back, the terror of what could happen to one of them was all too real. And with Harry, the main target, at their sides, the chances of something occurring was at an all-time high. The same went for Hermione, and the thought of anything befalling her was too awful to imagine. And Ron knew with a bone-deep certainty that neither she nor the Weasley family would be killed quickly, like Cedric had been. You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters would drag it out, and Ron felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it.

But as he and the two girls at his side saw Harry lying on the bed with a huge, bearlike black dog guarding him, he also knew with just as much certainty that they would never leave Harry. After all, how was it his fault that those monsters never stopped chasing him? The Weasleys were aware of what friendship with Harry might cost them, and no matter the sacrifices, they all knew it would be worth it. Molly and Arthur loved him like one of their own, and Harry was Ron's brother in all but blood. If this year had taught him anything, it was the fact that petty grudges and jealousies were downright ridiculous, and that he would never stray from Harry's side again.

And as far as the murder accusations went ... Merlin, could anyone be more pathetic? If any of these fools knew Harry at all, they would realize their beliefs were delusional. The boy would never do such a thing, and the fact that some in the school thought this about him made Ron literally want to walk up to them and pummel them beyond recognition.

The huge dog took one look at their stricken expressions, and the tear streaks on Hermione and Ginny's faces. Harry, who wasn't quite asleep but had been dozing quietly while his hand lay on the dog, came to awareness completely as his weary emerald eyes surveyed his friends.

Sirius transformed back into himself quicker than a bolt of lightning. "What is it?" he demanded, every muscle in his body snapping to attention. "What's happened?"

And it was then that Harry's three biggest supporters did the one thing that they despised doing above anything else, but knew that it had to be done. None of them could bear to tell the entire story, so they each took turns telling a part of it. They explained about Susan and Hannah's sudden appearance, and the information they had relayed. "They wanted to come in and see you themselves, mate," Ron said softly, a lump in his throat.

As Harry learned of everything that was going on, any bit of color that was in his face drained away until he was a ghostly white. Hermione burst into a round of fresh tears, and Ron put an arm around her on one side, Ginny on the other. His little sister was trembling in both fury and sorrow.

And no matter how much he wanted to look away from this scene, Ron couldn't. He wanted to do nothing more than hide away from all this messy, emotional turmoil that was taking place. But Harry needed him now; he had to stay brave for his best friend, his brother, someone he would literally give his own life for.

But it was incredibly hard not to shrink away from the look of absolute and utter rage that made itself known on Sirius's face. "They want to do WHAT?!" he roared, and desperately, he held onto Harry's hands as the boy began to shake violently.

"We're not going to let it happen," growled Ginny, whose voice was quaking with fierce anger. "And we're not the only ones. Hannah and Susan have let the staff know."

"They won't let it stand," said Hermione almost hysterically. "They can't."

There were several moments of prolonged, thick silence, and each second that passed was absolute torture. As Ron slowly met Harry's gaze, he saw nothing but desolation in his best friend's eyes. He truly looked as though he was going to be sick, and seeing this, Sirius only looked more unhinged. "You're damn right they can't let this stand," he shouted, and Ron could swear that the room almost vibrated with the intensity of his emotions. He stood up suddenly, and Ron got the feeling that if no one said anything, he would go storming out of the wing and right into the staff room himself. But this action would backfire spectacularly; he would land himself in Azkaban, or worse, by the day's end.

But it was then that Harry, in a small, weak voice filled with an infinite sadness and resignation, said, "It's all true. Those Hufflepuffs are right. I do put everyone in danger by being in this school, and now that Voldemort's back, it's only going to get worse. And why wouldn't some of them think I killed Cedric? I disappeared with him, and brought his body back." Taking a shuddering breath, he mustered up every ounce of strength he possessed. "If it'll make everyone safer, then I'll go," he said quietly, and Ron saw a look of stubborn determination enter his green eyes, even though they still looked shattered and despairing. This was truly the Harry Ron knew, and it saddened him beyond belief that his friend was going to lie down and give up.

He and Hermione both opened their mouths to give him a piece of their mind, but it was Ginny who beat them to the punch. "Don't you even dare, Harry Potter," she said in a low, shaking voice. "Don't you dare say that. You deserve to be here, and if anyone's responsible for this, it's all the fault of those damned staff. Ron and Hermione told me about Moody not being Moody, and he was the reason for what happened last night. The staff of this school did nothing to keep you safe, and you are ABSOLUTELY NOT going to lie down and take the bullshit that's being spewed at you now. No, Harry, you are staying here, and we'll make sure of it."

Ron reached over and squeezed Ginny's shoulder. She might be small and petite, but the youngest Weasley would not be underestimated. Her swearing did not surprise him, either; growing up with six older brothers, she could hold her own in the swearing department. He knew his mother would truly be shocked if she heard some of the words that escaped her young daughter's mouth. Oh, she had no idea that Ginny was not the innocent little flower she thought her to be. Ron couldn't be prouder of Ginny in that moment; she had never spoken to Harry in a tone like this, and Ron hoped beyond anything that it would jolt him into seeing sense.

"I know that your noble prat tendencies know no bounds," Ginny continued, gaining even more momentum and power. "But there comes a point when you need to fight for yourself. You're happy here at Hogwarts, and you are NOT going to let what a few complete arseholes say take that away from you."

Sirius looked at Ginny in shock, and from beside Ron, Hermione was doing the same. After a moment, Sirius said wistfully, "And there you have it, Harry. You have true fighters on your side." He gave Ginny a fierce grin, which she returned.

Harry looked back and forth between the group, his face still white, but his eyes shone with naked shock at the support he had just received. "But ..." he started, but then he faltered, not knowing what to say. He began to breathe fast and hard, and Ron knew his mind was churning as pure panic began to set in.

Instantly, Sirius gathered the boy into his arms. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny came closer to him, and Ron laid a hand on his shoulder while Hermione and Ginny touched his hands. They all stood around Harry while Sirius held and tried to calm him, a solid net of support who were going to shelter and protect him, even if it was from himself.

They stayed that way for several minutes, no one saying a word. They all knew that whatever was to come, they would all stand with Harry no matter what. He would never be alone.

And it was in the next moment that their loyalty was tested once again. Since they had been within the boundaries of the Silencing Charm, they hadn't heard what was going on in the rest of the wing. But suddenly, Madam Pomfrey burst into their space, her eyes wild. "They're here," she whispered weakly, her eyes filled with an endless apology. "Aurors."

And Ron knew, at that moment, that it was only the beginning.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hello everyone, and thank you so much for all the reviews. I want to answer some of my readers' concerns.

I'm sorry the last chapter was short, and not much seemed to happen in it. I just felt that the Aurors' arrival was a good place to stop. Also, I was told that the chapter was melodramatic. If you feel that way, I apologize, but I will warn you now that this story will probably not be to your taste, and for that I'm sorry. I just feel that if it wasn't written this way, it wouldn't sound natural or like my story at all. We're also dealing with awful subjects like false accusations, murder, and fear. I couldn't possibly write such a thing dispassionately.

As far as pairings go, I won't spoil it, but I will say that no, Harry and Ginny won't be linked romantically. They will be good friends, and she will be supportive of him. But that's all. You'll have to wait and see who I put with Harry later on, and I hope you end up enjoying it.

There is a reference in this chapter about Silencing Charms and Grimmauld Place that is different from canon. In a later chapter, I will explain why I did it differently.

Please enjoy!

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There had been several times in Sirius Black's life when he felt as though the entire world had ground to a halt, and time stood still. It had lost all meaning, and the disorienting feeling was something he could never forget. And as he held his godson in his arms after Madam Pomfrey's announcement, this was most definitely one of them. His brain was frozen, unable to dredge up one single thought.

The silence was so profound, and it spoke volumes as to how dire this situation really was. The boy had also gone abnormally still, not making a single sound. It seemed as though the entire room was holding its breath, struggling to process the information that was just not sinking in.

But then, as quick as it had come, the numbness fell away, and a terrible, resounding fear clamped its icy hand around Sirius's throat. No. No. No. Oh Merlin, no. They were here. They were going to take Harry away from him, and they would have no mercy. They would wring every single bit of information from Harry, and not show an ounce of compassion. Sirius knew only too well what Aurors would do, and how far they were willing to go. And the fact that Harry was a child wouldn't even factor into it. There would be no peace for Harry, who was now beginning to tremble in earnest.

Finally, the silence was broken by Sirius's barely audible whisper as he unconsciously held Harry closer. "Where are they?"

"The staff are doing their best to intercept them," said Madam Pomfrey, her voice a mixture of panic and fury. "Minerva just sent me an urgent Patronus. She received word of their arrival and instantly informed me."

Sirius hoped with every fiber of his being that no one had seen McGonagall perform this action. But knowing her as well as he did, he knew she could be very discreet.

"We'll fend them off, too," said Ron, his face hard and eyes cold. "We're not going to let them do this."

Harry suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse with terror. "No, you won't," he said softly. "They'll land you in trouble too."

"Harry, honestly, do you think we care?" Hermione demanded, tears sparkling in her eyes. "You should know by now that we're not just going to let them do what they want to you!"

Ginny nodded, an enraged look on her face that was rarely seen on her. "And we're going to find out who called them here," she snarled.

"No," Harry said, his tone raw with desperation. "Don't you understand? Enough has already gone wrong because of me! I don't want anyone else getting hurt!"

Sirius looked back and forth between a seething Madam Pomfrey, the group of livid teenagers, and his trembling godson who was shaking very badly in Sirius's arms now. His mind was going at a hundred miles an hour, many panicked thoughts battling for dominance. Merlin, what was he going to do? How was he going to protect Harry? He was going to be tormented, accused of a crime he didn't commit. And Sirius could think of no worse fate than that. He had dealt with the Ministry and their so-called humane methods of questioning for himself, and he knew exactly what would happen.

And in the days after Sirius's own arrest, he had begged and pleaded with the human guards to let him explain himself. He had offered up Pensieve memories, and said he would take Veritaserum. He had shouted and screamed, completely humiliating himself, but nobody had listened. Instead, they had spat at him that Pensieve memories could be tampered with, and it was possible to be immune to Veritaserum, although any such circumstance was extraordinarily rare. "With the family you come from, I don't doubt you're one of those that can resist it," he could recall one of them sneering at him before his cell door was slammed shut with a deafening bang.

And if the Ministry had Harry Potter in their clutches, Sirius reckoned it would be even worse. Because of his supposed defeat of Voldemort at the age of fifteen months, he was feared as well as revered. In their minds as well as many of those in the public, Harry was to be watched very closely. They would celebrate and idolize him until they found a reason for his reputation to shatter. After all, he had defied the very laws of magic itself, hadn't he? He'd survived the Avada Kedavra curse, a feat that had never been accomplished before. The public worshiped and adored him until he stopped doing what was expected of him.

And in that instant, Sirius knew what he had to do. It was honestly the last thing he actually wished to do, but he could think of no other plan. He wanted nothing more than for Harry to fight for his place at Hogwarts, and to have his innocence proven. He would give up the whole world so that Harry could have the peace he yearned for. He desperately hoped that there would come a day in the future when that would be possible. But now, at this exact moment, Sirius knew this was nothing but a beautiful dream.

The Portkey to Twelve, Grimmauld Place burned a hole in his robe pocket. During the time he'd been on the run, he had taken a Muggle coin that was lying forgotten on the ground, used the new wand Dumbledore had helped him to acquire, and charmed it into a Portkey, one that nobody knew about, not even the Headmaster. He had had to set foot in the house, because you had to be in that precise location to cast the necessary spells to create the Portkey. Sirius had despised every second of it, but something niggled at him, telling him this action was warranted.

It was almost funny, Sirius thought with a note of bitter sarcasm, that his old childhood home could actually be a safe haven. Growing up, there was nowhere Sirius despised more than the frigid, unwelcoming house. When he had made the Portkey there, he had tried to convince himself it would never, ever have to be used. Grimmauld Place was a last resort only, when there was truly nowhere else to turn. It was useful, because the entire house was unplottable. It had wards protecting it which were almost impenetrable.

The thought of taking Harry there made him feel physically nauseous, but what else was he supposed to do? Aurors were literally moments away from snatching his godson and subjecting him to more trauma than he'd already had to deal with. Sirius also knew that if he himself was caught, his life was over. He realized this with a crystal clarity, but even though he knew it was true, his focus was on Harry's suffering and not his own. He'd promised to never leave his godson again, though, so he couldn't let himself come to harm if only for the boy's sake.

But he despised the fact that he would be taking Harry away from Hogwarts, and doing exactly what Jeff's stupid petition wanted. Many would think that because Harry was removed from the premises, it alleviated the danger they faced. Sirius knew this was far from true; Voldemort and the Death Eaters had many targets; Dumbledore was right next to Harry on his "to kill" list. But fear was permeating the school right now, after Cedric had been kidnapped and killed. And many would deem it much safer once Harry was removed.

Sirius knew there would be many consequences for this hasty action. He might end up making things far worse than they already were. Throughout his life, he had always been reprimanded for his rash, impulsive behavior. It had chased him through his whole existence, and was a defining factor that led to his twelve-year stint in Azkaban.

But there was a marked difference between then and now, Sirius reasoned with himself. Then, he hadn't put Harry first and had gone haring off to seek revenge for James and Lily, whose lifeless bodies would always be glued to the backs of his eyelids. All his mental faculties were gone; his blood had screamed Peter, Peter, Peter. Catch, tear apart, destroy, kill. His anger had been out of control, and Peter had known it. Known it, and used it against him, landing him in the hottest pit of Hell.

But now, he felt as though this was a major step he could take to put right what was done wrong. He was doing it, and he was damn well prepared to deal with any consequences that arose from his decision. He was going to do what Lily and James had wanted, what he had promised them fiercely that he would do. He was finally going to show Harry what having a real family felt like. He was going to take care of him like no one else ever had before. As his hand entered his robe pocket and felt the warmth of the coin inside, he was just sorry it had to happen this way.

"What are you planning, Sirius?" asked Madam Pomfrey quietly without preamble.

Sirius looked her straight in the eye, the simple Muggle coin clutched in his tight grasp. "I'm getting him out of here," he said just as quietly.

"What?" exclaimed all three teenagers, sounding frantic.

Harry's grip on Sirius grew extremely tight, almost to the point of pain, but the man couldn't have cared less. He looked into the boy's green eyes, and swallowed convulsively to try and dislodge the sudden lump that was constricting his throat. Those eyes were looking at him with fear, but there was hope and trust there, too, which Sirius truly didn't think he'd earned. "Where are we going?" he asked softly.

"Don't you trust us?" Hermione asked desperately, her eyes flicking back and forth between godfather and godson.

"We're his best friends! He needs to stay with us!" Ron protested, his breathing sharp and quick. "And Dumbledore is here. He'll get Harry out of this."

Sirius felt anger come over him again, but he forced it down. He was not going to snap at Ron for his faith in Dumbledore. After all, Sirius used to possess it himself, until the man had let him down, and above all, let both Cedric and Harry down in unforgivable ways. Instead of shouting, he only said to Ron, "I don't trust him. Dumbledore is not infallible. He's only human."

"Madam Pomfrey?" Ginny asked softly, her face white.

Poppy and Sirius exchanged a meaningful glance that seemed to last for an eternity. "Do what you feel is best," she finally said.

Hermione turned into Ron, burying her face in his neck so the others couldn't see her renewed flow of tears. Ron hugged her close, his own eyes full of pain. "Harry?" he murmured, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. "Aren't you going to fight this?"

Harry's emerald eyes met Ron's blue ones, exhaustion and grief plain to see in their depths. Sirius's heart literally ached; he had been observing Harry for a long time, especially during his third year, and he'd seen the boy's strong spirit and willing eagerness to fight and win against any struggles that pursued him.

But the boy clinging to him now had none of that zeal in him. He looked frail, guilt-stricken, and exhausted, and Sirius's mind flashed back to the days of the First War when he, James, Lily, and the other Order fighters had returned from battles looking like that. A wild anger roared to life in Sirius again; how was it at all fair that his fourteen-year-old godson had to live with the same burdens? If anything, he had it far worse due to what the wizarding world thought and expected of him.

But Sirius decided, then and there, that he would fight twice as hard for Harry now. He swore he would return the spirit back into Harry, and he knew that the first step in this process was to allow Harry to be the child he never had the chance to be. He would take him away from all of this for a while, and fulfill the role James and Lily had trusted him with.

In response to Ron's desperate words, Harry just continued to look at him, those green eyes conveying everything he was feeling. Sirius realized that Lily and James had been open books, just like their son; their emotions were never hard to read.

"He needs to be taken care of right now, Ron," Sirius said earnestly, his voice quiet. "I promise you that I will do so. He needs to be looked after. The best way to help him right now is to support my decision."

Ron's expression didn't change, but Hermione's and Ginny's did. They caught Harry's eyes, their faces full of understanding. "We're here for you, Harry," Ginny whispered.

"We'll take care of everything here for you," said Hermione, tears still flowing freely down her face. "And don't try to stop us. Where are you taking him?" she asked Sirius, her eyes boring into his.

Sirius hesitated. He had trusted the wrong person before, someone who he thought had been one of his best friends. Did he dare do so again when it came to the well-being of his godson? Yes, Grimmauld Place was unplottable, but he still felt that the less people who knew Harry's location, the better.

Hermione saw the conflicted look on Sirius's face, and after a few seconds, she nodded. "It's okay," she said. "I know he'll be safe with you. Harry?" She turned to her best friend, who had been still and silent this entire time, still trembling. "Write to us when you can, won't you?"

Harry finally spoke. "Be safe," he said desperately. "Please be safe."

Ron looked as though his entire world was spinning. "We will, mate," he managed to say. "We're going to fight for you. We won't let them get you," he said, his face pale as he referred to the Aurors.

And then, Sirius made his move. Grasping Harry tightly, he permitted both of their hands to grasp the Muggle money. "Safety," he said, feeling a surge of irony at the single word. Grimmauld Place, safe. But, as the saying went, desperate times called for desperate measures. The last thing he saw before he and Harry were whisked away was Harry's three friends holding tightly to one another, both girls still crying and Ron looking dazed and numb. And then, they were gone.

They landed in the parlor of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry still clutched protectively in Sirius's embrace. As soon as they arrived, Harry scrambled away, and was violently sick all over the floor. Shocked, Sirius instantly waved his wand, removing the mess. "Harry? he whispered in worry. "Harry, what's wrong?"

But before Harry could answer, it hit him. The Portkey. Harry and Cedric had been taken away from the Hogwarts grounds by Portkey, and Harry had returned with his dead body to Hogwarts by Portkey. It had been less than twenty-four hours and he had already been forced to endure another one.

"Oh, Merlin," Sirius breathed, feeling like the world's worst person. "I-I'm sorry," he gasped, quickly conjuring a glass of water and handing it to Harry, who gulped it down. "I'm so stupid. God, I'm so sorry."

Harry was shaking worse than ever, but he immediately attempted to make Sirius feel better. "It's okay," he murmured. "It was probably the only way to get here, wasn't it?"

Unfortunately, Harry was right. "It was," he answered, still feeling awful. A surge of irony washed over him again; Hogwarts wasn't warded against Portkeys, while Floo travel there and back was very restricted. This fact had almost led to Harry's murder the night before, but was keeping him safe now.

Sirius took Harry's hand, and led the shivering boy into the drawing room. He sat down on the couch with him, and began to rub soothing circles on his back to calm him down. As the silence of the house settled against them, Sirius was incredibly glad he'd had the foresight to cast a Silencing Charm on the foul portrait of his mother on the wall. He'd received a nasty surprise when he'd briefly returned here to make the Portkey; he had barely stepped in through the door when the portrait started shrieking all manner of vile things at him. He'd learned during his stint in Azkaban that Mrs. Black had died, and it seemed as though she'd had the last laugh by installing the portrait, as though she suspected that Sirius might someday return. The more logical part of him knew it was Black tradition for family members to install portraits of themselves, but Sirius couldn't help the feeling that it had been done to spite him. Right now, though, he was just glad he had cast the Silencing Charm on it; her screams and disgusting insults were the last thing Harry currently needed.

Harry took some deep breaths, trying to get his swirling emotions under control. Eventually, he lifted his head from Sirius's shoulder and asked, "Where are we?"

"My old house," Sirius replied, stroking Harry's hair. He hoped his face wouldn't show his abhorrence for the place, but knew he was not at all well-versed in hiding his true feelings. As predicted, Harry caught it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and Sirius's heart constricted at the fact that despite his own ordeal, Harry was concerned about what the other man was going through.

And it was true that Sirius was going through a deep well of turmoil as snatches of memories flew through his mind at breakneck speed. Focus on Harry, he told himself fiercely. Your childhood happened years ago. Your priority is Harry now. He comes first. Your wallowing needs to wait. They're just memories. Just memories.

But he couldn't help but answer Harry truthfully as he saw the compassion in the boy's emerald eyes. "I hated this house growing up," he admitted. "My parents ... well, let's just say they were the worst kind of people. I ran away from here when I was sixteen."

Harry's eyes widened. "You did?" he said in shock. "Then why ... why did we come here?"

"That's simple," Sirius said. "It's the safest place for us. This place holds many secrets, one of them being that no one can find it if they don't know exactly what it is they're looking for. No one will find us here unless we want them to."

At this, Harry's face sagged, the guilt-stricken expression returning at full force. "Sirius, you didn't need to do this for me," he said softly. "I'm only going to cause more trouble for you."

Sirius gazed at Harry, adopting a stern but soft tone. "Now, let me make one thing clear, Harry James," he said, holding his gaze unyieldingly. "This guilt has to stop, and it will stop right now. You are in no condition to be questioned by those Aurors, or face the rest of the school. And even if you were, I wouldn't allow it. I vowed I would take care of you, and I am going to do so. Harry, you are a child, and you have had to go through things many have never had to face in an entire lifetime. And the adults in your life, I must say, have done piss-poor jobs taking care of you. I might hate this house, but guess what? It doesn't matter. Besides," he added, his voice softening, "with you here, it won't be so bad. You and I can make it more of a home than it ever was." As he spoke, a million ideas flashed through his mind of how to make the place more habitable. "We're family, kiddo," Sirius continued, still stroking Harry's hair. "You're stuck with me."

Harry's hold tightened again, and he buried his face back into Sirius's shoulder, his breaths coming out shaky. "It's okay, Harry," Sirius soothed, and as he held onto the boy, he truly felt, for the first time, that he was on the path to redemption. His heart expanded as he clung to Harry as tightly as the boy was clinging to him. "I won't let them hurt you. Not ever. It's you and me against the world, kid, but we're going to make it. Everything will be all right now."

And despite what lay in front of them, Sirius suddenly felt a surge of hope. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hello everyone, and thank you so much for the awesome reviews. I'm really glad you like where I'm going with the story. I was very excited to get to this point, because I wanted to give Harry and Sirius a chance to truly get to know one another, and to heal. This chapter starts at the true beginning of that journey. We will be with Harry and Sirius for a couple of chapters, and then we will return to Hogwarts because, after all, what happened with the Aurors?

Anyway, please enjoy!

Xxxxxxxxxx

Harry let out a deep sigh as he tried to gather his thoughts. Sirius was still holding him close, and he couldn't help but soak up the comfort his godfather provided. The only sound in the room now was the clock on the wall that ticked the seconds away.

In a matter of less than twenty-four hours, his world had come apart at the seams and had turned itself completely upside down. At this time yesterday, he had been preparing for the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. His stomach had been tying itself in knots as he wondered whether he'd be able to accept the challenges of the task. He'd had no possible idea that things could go so horrifically wrong.

Yes, he had been worried for what was to come, but never in his wildest and most lurid nightmares would he have expected last night's tragedy to occur. He remembered the words of Ludo Bagman as he had given the champions a pep talk before going into the maze. "This will change you," he had said. "You might never be the same after this night." Harry's reaction to this melodramatic statement was to almost snort with laughter; Bagman had spoken as though the champions had to save themselves from the apocalypse.

But, Harry reflected sadly, Bagman didn't know how right he was. Last night had changed him. He'd honestly thought he knew what evil was; he'd heard plenty about the vile deeds Voldemort and his Death Eaters performed. But to see it happen right in front of his eyes was something completely different. He'd never forget the weight of Cedric's lifeless body in his arms, that final look of terror on his face a testament to the power evil could hold.

And now, less than a day later, events had spun even more out of control, and he was now in hiding. Sirius had taken him away from Hogwarts, and to a place he had never set foot in before. He'd taken him away from the murder accusations, from the people who didn't believe Voldemort was back. Here, in the safety and comfort of Sirius's arms, there was no one howling for his blood or telling him he was dangerous to hang around with.

Truth be told, Harry had never been more relieved in his entire life. But this thought also made a well of self-loathing rise up inside of him. He was a coward, plain and simple, wasn't he? He should have been able to face those Aurors with the strength to fight for himself. He should have been willing to tell them in no uncertain terms that Voldemort was back. Cedric Diggory was only the first casualty in the war that was about to wreak havoc on both the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

But he hadn't. He hadn't fought at all. With a pang, he remembered Ron's words: "Aren't you going to fight this?" Those words had hit him hard, because he knew the Harry of twenty-four hours ago would have fought with everything he had in him. But right now, he seemed to have no strength left. He felt shattered and broken, and needed to find a way to put himself back together. Sirius had offered him an out, and he had taken it.

And it honestly seemed to him as though Sirius didn't think any worse of him because of it. In fact, he seemed extremely vehement in making Harry understand that he needed to heal. Therefore, Harry was fighting a war within himself as the minutes passed. His instinct to fight against the injustice battled with the despair and guilt he felt, and the feelings bludgeoned him on all sides, making it extremely difficult to think clearly.

But the feeling that was currently rising above any others was the complete and utter gratitude that was running through him at the fact that Sirius had dropped everything to keep Harry safe. Never in his life had he been treated with such care by an adult before. The closest he had come to it was when he'd stayed at the Burrow. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had shown him what being in a family truly felt like. But now, there were no other children around; it was just Harry and Sirius. No one else to take up their time.

"Harry?" Sirius asked softly, ruffling his godson's messy hair. "Would you like anything to eat?"

Harry could see uncertainty in the man's face. Now that the panic, fear, and adrenaline from their arrival had passed, their situation was really starting to sink in. Harry could see in his godfather's eyes that he wanted nothing more than to give Harry everything he wanted and needed, but wasn't sure how to do so. In a strange fashion, this comforted Harry; he was equally as unsure of how to handle this sudden change in pace.

So, he tried for a reassuring smile. He knew it came out shaky, but it was the best he could offer at the moment. "Um, yeah, sure," he said softly, even though he wasn't that hungry. Ever since last night, he'd had no appetite at all.

"Okay, kiddo. Is there anything in particular that you'd like?" Sirius asked.

"Uh, maybe just a chicken sandwich, please," Harry replied. "Do we have food here, though?"

Sirius's smile turned into a grin. "Of course," he said, and then he suddenly snapped his fingers. "Kreacher!" he said loudly.

Harry only had a fleeting moment to wonder what this was all about, because a second later, his question was answered. A dirty, decrepit-looking house elf shuffled into the room. He was wearing a filthy tea towel, and had an extremely sour and bitter expression on his wrinkled face. "Yes, Master?" he muttered in a low, gravelly voice. His gaze shifted to Harry, and if possible, his face grew even more disgusted.

"Bring us some chicken sandwiches and some pumpkin juice," Sirius demanded, surprising Harry with the harshness of his tone.

"Yes, Master," the elf said again, bowing so low that his nose reached the floor. As he shuffled out of the room, Harry heard him murmuring to himself. "Stupid fool of a master returning to our ancient and noble house, and he brings the Potter whelp into my sanctuary. Oh my poor mistress, what would she say if she knew the deeds of her blood traitor son? He broke her poor heart when he ran away from the fine nobility of ..."

"Shut up, Kreacher, and get us our food," Sirius snarled furiously, glaring so hard at the little elf that it actually looked painful. "My mother didn't have a heart to break, you foul excuse for an elf."

Harry couldn't help gaping in shock at the abrupt change in his godfather's demeanor. The look on his face had been downright frightening while talking to the elf, and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't blindsided by it. True, he'd seen Sirius vibrating with anger before, when he and Remus had confronted Peter a year ago. But Harry would never have suspected that such a tiny elf would elicit such rage and hatred from the man.

But Harry was also shocked at the things the elf had muttered under his breath. Sirius had said he hated this house, and had run away when he was sixteen. He'd said his parents were the worst kind of people. Had Kreacher been part of the family the entire time? The elf had also used the term "blood traitor" when referring to Sirius. Harry had heard Malfoy and his cronies use that term, too. Slowly, several puzzle pieces began to fit together, and he once again was astonished at the fact that Sirius had brought them here even though it held such awful memories for him.

But still, the way Sirius was treating Kreacher made Harry feel intensely uncomfortable. But he instantly felt guilty for thinking so. After the length Sirius had gone to just to keep him safe, he didn't think he had a right to feel this way. And the things Kreacher had muttered had been abominable, after all. But there was something pitiable about the state of the elf, and Sirius's attitude towards him made Harry feel rather on edge.

There were a few seconds of very awkward silence, and then Kreacher returned, holding a tray with two chicken sandwiches and pumpkin juice on it. He plunked it down on the table next to the couch. "Here you go, Master. For you and the Potter boy," he croaked, the expression on his face still unchanged. "Master can call Kreacher if he requires his services again." Once again, he bowed so low that his nose touched the floor, then mumbled so softly that it took effort for Harry to hear him, "Kreacher is wondering what his old master and that Potter filth are doing here in my precious mistress's house. If it were up to Kreacher he'd have never let them in here. Oh my poor mistress, she would never let those vermin invade and infest her beautiful home, no, she would not."

"GET OUT, KREACHER!" Sirius roared at the elf, making Harry jump. "You're the vermin around here! GET OUT!"

And Kreacher did, without saying another word.

After Kreacher had left the room, Harry simply sat on the couch, staring wide-eyed at Sirius. The chicken sandwiches and pumpkin juice sat very close to him, but Harry didn't go and retrieve them. His mind was lost in the past, flashing back to things he didn't want to remember.

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"It's disgusting, how witches and wizards make house-elves obey their every command. Why doesn't anyone try and help them?"

"Oh give me a break, Hermione. They. Like. It."

"Shut up, Ron, and stop being an insensitive prat!"

"I'm not! I'm only telling the truth!"

"Harry? Kiddo, what's wrong?" Sirius's concerned voice pulled Harry out of his reverie. "Aren't you going to eat your sandwich?"

Without thinking, Harry blurted out the first thing that came into his mind. "Why did you treat that house-elf like that?" he asked, willing the flashbacks to stop. Sirius isn't Lucius Malfoy, he told himself angrily. Sirius wouldn't treat Kreacher like Lucius treated Dobby.

Sirius looked truly surprised by the question. "Oh, Kreacher?" He gave a bitter snort. "He's an ugly, foul, slimy little urchin," he said, his gray eyes dark with something unfathomable, and Harry had the distinct impression that the man was lost in his own flashbacks. "I've always hated him."

"But ..." Harry started, but didn't know how to finish. How could he tell Sirius the story of Dobby without making it sound like he was comparing his godfather to Lucius Malfoy? The two were nothing alike; he couldn't imagine Lucius caring for Draco the way Sirius was caring for him.

Sirius studied Harry's face, truly taking in the tinge of fear in his eyes. Instantly, his expression softened, and all the remaining anger and hate left his eyes. "Kiddo, did I scare you?" he asked quietly, the color draining from his face.

Harry looked at him, stricken. "You ... you were just so angry," he mumbled. "He's a really nasty elf, but you ..."

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered, truly looking appalled now. "I never meant to scare you. I ... that elf just makes me so angry. I lose myself when I'm around him."

Harry was relieved to see sense return to Sirius's eyes again; for a minute, he had looked like a thing possessed, and Harry couldn't help but worry about what being back in this house was doing to him. "What did Kreacher do to you?"he asked softly.

"He agreed with everything my despicable parents said," Sirius replied, putting an arm around the boy and drawing him close again. "They believed they were royalty, and were complete pureblood fanatics. To them, Muggles, Muggle-borns, and half-bloods were beneath them, not even worthy to lick their boots."

Harry listened intently as Sirius poured his heart out, revealing much of his family story. Harry had the feeling that a lot of this had been locked up tight within Sirius for a very long time, and therefore, he didn't interrupt, not even when he had questions. Sirius told of his stiff, formal upbringing, where there was hardly any fun involved, only a strict education on how to become a perfect little pureblood. As he spoke, a weight seemed to lift off him.

When Sirius came to the part about how he'd been disowned, though, Harry couldn't help but react. "They disowned you?" he exclaimed in outrage. "How could they do that? You were their son!"

Sirius let out a laugh that held a lifetime's worth of bitterness. "Yeah, well, that didn't matter to them," he said in a low voice. "Their pureblood mania meant more to them than I ever did. Their love was conditional, and I didn't live up to their expectations. So they burned my name off the family tree, and that was that."

Harry was horrified. He'd always felt awful and unwanted at the Dursleys, especially when he saw how many other children were treated by their parents. To Petunia and Vernon, he knew he was regarded as nothing more than a worthless burden. But he honestly couldn't imagine being in Sirius's shoes, being cast out and disowned from your own family. Harry now had a better understanding of Sirius's loathing towards them, even though the way he'd screamed at Kreacher still made him uncomfortable. "After you ran away, where did you go?" he asked eventually.

For the first time during the conversation, Sirius smiled. "Your father," he said, his eyes full of reminiscence. "His parents, your grandparents, treated me like a second son, and James always said he wanted a brother. I stayed with them until I finished Hogwarts, and then I found my own flat."

Harry's eyes widened, thrilled and intrigued at hearing this tidbit of information. "Wow," he breathed. "What was that like?"

"They were a real family, and they truly made me feel like I was a part of it," Sirius said wistfully. "Even after I moved to my own flat, and James and your mum started living together, the Potters would always invite us over for brunch every Sunday. That became routine until ..." Sirius stopped, a sad expression coming over his face. "Until they both died of dragonpox in 1979, a few months before Lily became pregnant with you. There was an epidemic of that disease during that time, and your grandparents were two of the casualties."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, feeling very sad himself. He wished he'd had the chance to know his grandparents; they sounded like fantastic people. "What happened to my mum's parents?" he asked, unable to help his curiosity.

Sirius sighed deeply. "They were murdered by Voldemort in June 1980," he said. "He did it to hurt Lily, as a way to punish her for being part of the wizarding world."

"That's terrible," Harry gasped. He suddenly wondered if that was part of the reason Petunia despised magic so much, because after all, they'd been her parents too.

"Yes, that was a terrible time," Sirius agreed morosely. "We lost many good people during the First War."

Harry's heart sank when he saw the mournful expression on Sirius's face. The First War may be over, but a second one was about to begin. How many good people would they lose this time? Cedric had been the first. How many more would there be? And how many good people would die because they were associating with Harry?

"I'm sorry, kiddo," Sirius said, beginning to rub Harry's back. "I'm such a fool. We shouldn't be talking about this. You should be healing, and I should be reassuring you that everything's going to be okay."

Harry stared into Sirius's gray eyes, his own emerald ones looking tired and too old for his almost fifteen years. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I know we need to prepare for what's going to happen next."

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair, sadness still evident in his eyes. "It's so unfair," he murmured gently. "You're still a child. You should be allowed to be a child, and you should never have to deal with how vile this world can get."

There was silence for a few minutes after that, with the two just holding onto one another for comfort. Finally, Sirius released Harry and said, "Would you like your chicken sandwich now?"

Harry sat up and nodded quickly. The sandwiches and pumpkin juice still sat on the table; they'd been there the entire time, but the discussion had become so intense that they'd promptly been forgotten about. But now, Harry reached for a sandwich and began to eat, and he found it to be very good indeed.

It was while Harry was sipping at his pumpkin juice that Sirius spoke again. "Thank you, Harry," he murmured suddenly.

Harry put his cup down on the table and faced Sirius. "For what?" he murmured in confusion.

"For helping me get my head back on straight," Sirius said, and his gray eyes were full of love and sincerity. "For letting me tell you about my family. You're dealing with so much right now, and I know I scared you earlier. I'm truly sorry I lost it with Kreacher. I let being back in this house get to me when I know I shouldn't have. I told you that with you here, this house will become more of a home than it ever has before. I just have to try to not let the bad memories get to me."

At these words, Harry's heart flipped at the renewed realization of what Sirius was willing to go through for him. If anyone knew about being triggered by bad memories, it was Harry. Guilt tried to suffocate him again; Sirius had purposely gone to a place he hated, in order to keep someone he loved safe. Did he really deserve to be blessed with such a gift? "It's okay," he said softly.

Sirius seemed to sense the track Harry's mind was on, and he immediately pulled the boy close again. "What did I tell you about guilt, Harry?" His voice had adopted that stern tone again, but it was still gentle. "I told you, I'll do anything for you. This is the safest place we've got. Nothing and no one can get to us here. You can take all the time you need to heal here."

Harry's eyes gazed into Sirius's. "But what about you,?" he asked, his heart aching for the man who was holding him like he was the most valuable thing in the world. "You need to heal too, and you hate it in this house. Can you really heal here?"

Sirius's eyes adopted a look of wonder, and as Harry watched, tears gathered in the corners. But amazingly, he was smiling as he answered.

"Oh kiddo," he whispered, pulling Harry even closer. "I'm pretty sure I can. It's the people that make the house a home, after all. You're my home, Harry, whether we're at Grimmauld Place or on a desert island. We can make new memories here, Harry, just the two of us."

And for a moment, any feelings of doubt and uncertainty about the future melted away. Sirius was right; this wasn't an ideal situation, not even in the slightest. But, as Harry lost himself in the sensations of truly being loved by someone, none of it mattered. He was with Sirius; therefore, he was home.


End file.
